En  V 


Vv/IL.I^A.R©   A.PAUL 


JOHNA.SEAVERNS 


DON 

HIS    RECOLLECTIONS 


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Q     Q 


DON 

HIS   RECOLLECTIONS 


BY 

WILLARD  A.  PAUL,  M.D. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
GRACE  LORING  BASSET 


BOSTON 

THE  AMERICAN  HUMANE  EDUCATION  SOCIETY 

1914 


COPYRIGHT,   I914 
BY  WILLARD    A.    PAUL 


THB'PLIIIPTOICPRESS 
HOKWOOD'MASS'VS'A 


THE  AUTHOR  WISHES  TO  DEDICATE  THIS  LITTLE 
BOOK  OF  STORIES  TO  THE  MOST  LOYAL  FRIEND 
THAT  HUMANS  AND  ANIMALS  COULD  POSSIBLY  HAVE 

MRS.   J.    B.    SPEED 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

'HEN  I  was  a  hoy  not  ten  years  old 
there  came  into  our  part  of  the  country 
{as  was  the  custom  in  those  days)  an 
old-fashioned  religious  revival.  Everybody  was 
more  or  less  stirred  up  as  to  the  future.  I  can 
remember  my  father  talking  with  one  of  our  neigh- 
borsy  a  prosperous  farmer,  a  man  who  had  in 
material  things  lived  a  good  life,  but  who  never 
was  religiously  inclined.  My  father  had  been 
arguing  that  if  we  did  about  right  here  we  should 
live  and  remember,  know  each  other  and  be  happy 
in  the  future.  The  part  of  their  conversation  that 
made  an  impression  upon  me  and  started  me  to 
thinking  (/  might  say  it  was  the  beginning  of  my 
ideas  and  outline  of  the  future)  was  this  neighbor  s 
final  summing  up:  *'/  tell  you,  Dan,*'  he  said, 
*Uhere*s  nothing  in  it.  It's  all  bosh  and  non- 
sense: when  you're  dead,  you're  dead,  just  like 
a  horse!" 

Of  course  my  mind  was  fully  made  up  then  that 


viii  AUTHOR'S    NOTE 

we  all  livedo  that  there  is  a  future;  the  only  thing 
that  disturbed  me  was  the  future  of  the  horse  and 
the  dog,  —  the  animal;  and  from  that  moment  I 
have  had  no  doubts  as  to  man  and  am  no  less 
positive  regarding  the  future  of  the  horse  or  dog. 

Shortly  after  that  I  became  greatly  interested  in 
birds  and,  in  company  with  an  elder  brother,  began 
a  collection  of  the  song  birds  of  our  immediate 
neighborhood.  We  provided  ourselves  with  books 
necessary  to  an  understanding  of  the  birds,  —  the 
time  of  collecting,  how  and  where  to  find  them  and 
all  the  methods  of  preparing  them.  We  continued 
this  work  for  two  or  three  months,  and  had  col- 
lected several  hundred  specimens,  when,  all  in  a 
minute,  I  was  seized  with  the  idea  that  I  could  not 
kill  another  bird. 

The  last  bird  I  killed  was  the  woodthrush.  He 
fell  fluttering  to  the  ground,  life  not  quite  extinct, 
and  as  I  seized  his  delicate  throat  between  my 
thumb  and  forefinger  {the  book  had  minutely  de- 
scribed how  to  end  the  little  feathered  friend's  suf- 
fering quickly  and  painlessly),  his  mate  or  some 
other  member  of  the  thrush  family  began  to  sing 
their  beautiful  song,  perhaps  the  sweetest  strain  in 


AUTHOR'S    NOTE  ix 

all  nature  J  — -and  I  was  changed  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye.  I  have  never  since  been  able  to  kill  a 
bird.  I  almost  felt  at  the  moment  that  it  was  that 
bird's  other  self  singing  —  the  one  which  I  held 
behind  me  that  I  might  not  see  its  struggling  form 
while  its  little  life  ebbed  out  between  my  thumb  and 
forefinger. 

The  horse  and  the  dog  and  the  lives  of  our  ex- 
quisitely beautiful  song  birds  were  thus  early  in 
my  life  taken  care  of  as  to  their  true  psychological 
standing;  but  the  lower  order  of  animal  life  did 
not  reach  that  height  in  my  understanding  until  a 
much  later  date,  and  I  was  quite  willing  to  hunt 
and  to  destroy  the  lives  of  the  little  burrowing  ani- 
mals of  the  fields,  and  the  fish  — for  pleasure. 
But  this,  too,  received  the  final  shock.  Long  after 
I  came  to  mans  estate  I  spent  a  month  fishing 
with  a  party  of  friends  upon  the  beautiful  and 
grand  river,  little  known  to  the  majority  of  people 
in  America,  Nipigon;  —  and  lest  it  may  seem  a 
myth  to  you,  I  will  say  that  it  is  the  outlet  of  Lake 
Nipigon  in  Canada,  running  a  course  of  twenty- 
five  miles  into  Thunder  Bay  at  Red  Rock  on  the 
northern  shore  of  Lake  Superior.     I  was  never  a 


X  AUTHOR'S    NOTE 

good  fisherman^  but  during  that  month  I  had  de- 
stroyed many  of  the  most  beautiful  trout  that  ever 
sported  in  the  clear  spring  water  of  that  river. 
The  last  one  I  caught  that  year,  and  the  last  that 
J  have  ever  caught  or  have  tried  to  catchy  was  a 
beautiful  five  and  three  quarter  pound  speckled 
trout.  As  I  played  him  in  the  beautiful  waters  of 
Hamilton  pool  and  he  worked  me  for  over  an  hour 
{and  finally  to  land  him  successfully  required  the 
help  of  my  two  friends  and  three  Indian  guides) y 
my  grasp  of  the  psychological  possibilities  of  the 
lower  orders  of  life  included  not  only  the  horse, 
the  dog  and  the  song  birds,  but  all  of  the  animals, 
—  and  the  fishes  as  well;  and  it  has  seemed  per- 
fectly certain  to  me  that  the  human  family  never 
can  come  to  that  state  in  their  progress  known  as 
higher  civilization  so  long  as  the  race  as  a  race 
will  submit  any  animal,  whether  human  or  lower, 
to  needless  suffering. 

I  believe  that  Sherman  when  he  said,  "  War  is 
Hell!^'  was  thinking  almost  as  much  of  the  horse 
as  of  man.  I  never  have  talked  with  any  of  the 
great  generals  or  army  officers  who  did  not,  in 
referring  to   the   awfulness   of  the   battle-field,    in- 


AUTHOR'S    NOTE  xi 

dude  the  horse  in  the  sum  total  oj  the  horrible 
sufferings. 

I  was  almost  going  to  say  that  I  did  not  wish 
to  include  in  my  list  of  friends  the  man  who  could 
look  into  the  dying  eyes  —  those  beautiful^  pure, 
liquid  eyes  —  of  the  deer,  and  say  that  he  enjoyed 
the  so-called  sport  of  killing  the  most  graceful  of 
all  animals  below  the  human. 

There  is  no  man  or  woman  who  would  not  be 
better,  —  a  better  Christian,  a  better  man,  a  better 
woman,  a  better  father  or  mother,  sister  or  brother, 
—  by  having  a  close,  an  intimate  friend  among 
the  animals. 

Since  beginning  the  writing  of  the  autobiography 
of  Don,  the  great  controversy  has  arisen  in  regard 
to  the  ability  of  so-called  dumb  animals  to  use,  in 
a  limited  degree,  that  faculty  which  we  call,  in 
the  human,  reason.  People  interested  in  the  sub- 
ject have  ranged  themselves  on  sides,  one  claiming 
that  animals  do  have  to  a  greater  or  less  degree 
the  power  of  reasoning  and  deducing  results  from 
causes,  others  claiming  that  their  highest  attribute 
is  what  has  been  called  for  hundreds  of  years, 
instinct. 


xii  AUTHOR'S    NOTE 

Perhaps  my  personal  opinion  in  the  matter 
will  have  very  little  weight;  and  yet  I  want  to  put 
myself  on  record.  I  thoroughly  believe^  and  have 
believed  for  years,  that  animals  have  a  far  higher 
psychological  standing  than  people  have  been  will- 
ing to  give  them.  I  believe  that  in  many  in- 
stances animals  use  a  high  grade  of  reasoning 
power,  and  that  they  deduce  certain  results  from 
certain  causes,  showing  a  connected,  consecutive 
line  of  thought  and  reasoning. 

There  is  no  possible  way  of  explaining  Don's 
doings  the  night  of  December  ji  and  January 
I  except,  that  he  reasoned  from  cause  to  effect. 
There  is  no  possible  way  that  Bess  could  have 
stopped  Jetty  when  she  was  running  away  except 
by  some  logical  reasoning.  I  do  not  think  that 
the  horse  in  one  instance,  and  the  dog  in  the  other, 
thought  it  all  out  in  words  as  we  do;  but  the  re- 
sults, to  my  mind,  show  conclusively  some  form 
of  reasoning,  some  attribute,  much  higher  than 
instinct. 

The  stories  in  this  book  are,  every  one,  true  to 
the  letter.  Many  of  them,  in  fact  all  of  them,  are 
susceptible  of  proof  by  from  one  to  many  witnesses. 


AUTHOR'S    NOTE  xiii 

/  believe  the  great  interest  taken,  and  the  great 
amount  of  discussion  indulged  in,  in  the  last  few 
years,  in  relation  to  this  subject  is  not  only  bene- 
ficial to  the  animals,  but  just  as  beneficial  to  man; 
for  I  believe  that  we  cannot  know  too  much  about, 
or  too  greatly  appreciate  our  dumb  neighbors  and 
friends. 

In  presenting  this  Autobiography  to  the  public 
it  is  my  pleasure,  as  well  as  my  duty,  to  acknowl- 
edge my  great  indebtedness  to  the  late  Mrs.  Margaret 
C.  Barret  in  writing  these  stories:  her  culture,  in- 
nate humanity  and  great  kindness  were  a  help  in 
every  chapter  as  it  passed  through  her  hands;  also 
to  my  wife,  who  has  read  and  re-read  every  word 
and  helped  greatly  by  suggestion  and  corroboration. 

W.  A.  P. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  I,  Myself 3 

II  I  Am  Named  and  Broken  in  .      .  8 

III  I  Become  THE  Doctor's  Assistant  ii 

IV  General  History 15 

V  The  Sermon  in  the  Garden  .      .  19 

VI  Rock   Island   Island    ....  22 

VII  A  Dog's  Appreciation  ....  25 

VIII  I  Run  away 28 

IX  Rock  Island  Arsenal   ....  34 

X  Forty-Five  Miles  Saved   ...  42 

XI  A  Youthful  Escapade       ...  46 

XII  Gyp 49 

XIII  Gyp  Takes  Part  in  the   Easter 

Service 55 

XIV  Gyp's  Last  Trip 59 

XV  Black  Hawk's  Watch  Tower      .  62 

XVI  Sears  Park 68 

XVII  A  Hundred  Times  at  School      .  75 

XVIII  A  Quick  Run 79 

XIX  The  Sewer  Horse 83 

XX  Horses,  Like  Men,  Fear  the 

Unknown 85 

XXI  A  Long,  Cold  Night    ....  89 

XXII  Bess  is  Poisoned 94 

XXIII  My  Master  Goes  to  Jail       .     .  100 

XXIV  The  Cyclone 11 1 

XXV  Noted  People      .      .    '  .     .      .     .  115 

XXVI  Bess  Stops  the  Runaway       .     .  125 


xvi  CONTENTS 

XXVII  Horses  I  Have  Known,  and  Their 

Peculiarities 130 

XXVIII  The  Reunion 134 

XXIX  Bess  as  a  Surgical  Patient  .      .  137 

XXX  A  Thousand  Miles  in  a  Private 

Car 139 

XXXI  Niagara 155 

XXXII  On  to  Boston 158 

XXXIII  My  First  Trip  from   Boston  to 

Dorchester 167 

XXXIV  One  of  Our  Best  Friends      .     .  171 
XXXV  My  Master  Makes  a  Mistake    .  178 

XXXVI  The  Gipsy  Camp 184 

XXXVII  Instinct  or  Reason  ?     .      .     .     .  189 

XXXVIII  Someone  Forgot 192 

XXXIX  We  Lose  Our  Bess 199 

XL  Accidents  to  Others    ....  205 
XLI  The  Disagreement  between  Mas- 
ter and  Myself 207 

XLII  Some  Things  Which  I  Know  from 

Experience 211 

XLIII  Bess,  The  Black  Mare     .     .     .  220 

XLIV  Grampian  Way 226 

XLV  Character  in  Horses   ....  230 

XLVI  Life  in  the  Stable 234 

XLVII  The  Rescue 239 

XLVI  1 1  The  Park  System 242 

XLIX  Children 251 

L  "Da'  Foo'!" 256 

LI  Teddy 260 

LII  Thanksgiving.     .  - 265 

LIII  The  Last  Word 269 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Don,  a  Portrait  at  Sixteen Front  cover 

Painting  by  Grace  Loring  Basset 

Don,  the  Day  the  Doctor  Bought  Him    .  Frontispiece 
Painting  by  Grace  Loring  Basset 

The  Gates  of  the  Arsenal     .      .      .     Facing  page      40 

Bess  and  Her  Son  Argus,  after  the  Whipping      .       72 

Nellie  on  Her  Rounds  with  Dr.  Frank  and  the 
Two  Children 82 

Bess,  a  Portrait  at  Ten 156 

Painting  by  Grace  Loring  Basset 

Don,  a  Photograph  at  Twenty-Five     ....     266 


DON 


DON 


vr 


I 

/,  MYSELF 

HAVE  decided  to  write  an  autobiography; 
I  suppose,  if  it  is  an  autobiography,  I  shall 
have  to  write  it.  I  never  thought  much 
about  writing  until  after  I  came  to  New  England. 
You  know  in  the  West  horses,  as  well  as  men, 
think  less  about  writing  than  they  do  in  Boston. 
I  hadn't  lived  here  so  very  long  before  I  began  to 
feel  that,  if  I  were  to  get  on  in  Boston,  I  should 
have  to  write  a  book  of  some  kind.  I  haven't 
been  so  busy  since  living  here,  as  my  master  had 
other  horses,  and  I  have  had  some  time  to  think 
on  this  subject.  I  thought  at  first  I  would  write 
about  one  of  my  mates;  he  is  such  a  funny  little 
fellow, — I  could  write  a  big  book  about  Prince, 
but  I  have  decided  to  write  a  history  of  my  own 
life. 

I  am  not  like  Uncle  Tobey,  because  I  can't  re- 
member when  I  was  born;  but  I  have  heard  my 

3 


4  DON 

master  say  that  I  was  twenty-seven  years  old  last 
September.  My  birthday  is  the  15th.  It  is  odd 
that  my  birthday  should  be  in  September,  when 
most  all  of  my  friends'  birthdays  are  in  May  and 
June;  but  Master  says  it  is  the  15th  of  September, 
and  he  always  gives  me  something  extra  on  that 
day,  so  I  have  never  forgotten  it. 

As  I  said  before,  I  can't  remember  my  birth. 
About  the  first  thing  I  do  remember  is  running, 
jumping,  frolicking  and  playing  in  a  large  field — 
a  great  level  tract  of  land — with  my  brothers 
and  sisters,  uncles  and  aunts,  and  my  mother.  I 
tell  you  that  was  a  happy  time  in  my  life;  we 
had  such  fun  and  such  good  things  to  eat! 

I  remember  one  day  some  men  came  out  to 
visit  us.  Our  master  called  me  up  to  him,  and 
a  tall,  dark-complexioned  man  whom  he  called 
Lowell  patted  me  and  said:  "He  is  a  fine  fellow; 
he  is  just  what  I  want  for  a  friend  of  mine,  a 
doctor.  I  think  he  will  make  a  great  doctor's 
horse." 

I  didn't  fully  realize  then  what  was  being  said, 
but  it  made  me  proud  to  think  that  this  gentle- 
man liked  me  better  than  the  others;  and  after 


MYSELF  S 

they  had  gdne  I  ran  about  the  field  and  kicked 
up  my  heels,  and  oh,  I  never  felt  so  proud  in 
all  my  life  as  I  did  that  day  because  the  man 
thought  I  was  such  a  fine  fellow  and  would 
make  such  a  good  horse  for  a  doctor. 

I  didn't  see  anything  more  of  them  for  about 
a  month,  when  one  day  I  looked  up  and  saw 
our  master  and  this  tall,  dark  man  whom  he 
called  Lowell,  coming  towards  us  again.  This 
time  when  they  called  me  up  to  them  they  put 
a  halter  on  my  head  and  led  me  out  of  the  pas- 
ture. I  heard  them  say  that  the  doctor  had 
decided  to  take  me  and  that  this  man,  whose 
name  was  Lloyd  (Lowell  was  his  first  name), 
was  going  to  take  me  away. 

Then  I  began  to  understand  that  I  was  really 
going  to  leave  my  home.  I  tell  you  that  was 
a  sad  day.  All  of  the  feeling  of  pride  had  gone 
out  of  me,  and  I  was  blue  and  homesick.  I 
did  hate  to  leave  all  my  brothers  and  sisters, 
my  mother,  and  that  beautiful  field  and  all  that 
nice  sweet  grass. 

Do  you  know,  I  never  have  had  any  real 
grass  since.     I  think  about  it  often.     I  go  out 


6  DON 

sometimes  with  Master  and  he  lets  me  feed  in 
the  highway,  but  the  grass  doesn't  taste  the 
same  to  me.  My  neck  is  stiff;  I  can't  seem  to 
get  my  head  down  to  the  ground.  Then  it  was 
just  as  easy!  I  could  stand  and  eat  grass  all 
day  and  it  wouldn't  make  my  neck  ache.  No, 
I  have  never  had  any  good  grass  since  then.  I 
have  talked  with  many  of  my  friends  about  it; 
they  have  all  had  grass;  every  year  or  two 
they  have  a  spell  of  going  back  to  the  pastures 
and  eating  grass,  but  I  have  never  been  back. 

Well,  the  trade  was  made;  there  was  no 
going  back  on  it.  Mr.  Lloyd  took  me  up  to  the 
barn  where  he  had  a  horse  called  Jock  in  a  two- 
wheeled  carriage.  He  got  in  and  led  me  away 
from  my  first  colthood  home  to  his  place.  Mr. 
Lloyd  was  a  fine  man;  he  seemed  to  think  I 
was  about  the  best  horse  that  he  had  ever  seen. 
He  cleaned,  rubbed,  polished  and  groomed  me 
until  I  began  to  get  proud  again. 

In  two  or  three  days  he  took  me  into  the 
city  of  Rock  Island,  IlHnois,  to  see  my  new 
master,  the  doctor.  I  can  remember  just  how 
the   doctor  looked   that   day   when   Mr.    Lloyd 


MYSELF  7 

drove  up  to  the  house  with  me  behind  the  gig. 
He  came  out  and  stroked  my  nose.  He  seemed 
to  get  right  on  to  my  nose  at  once.  I  have 
often  wondered  if  I  had  a  nose  so  much  different 
from  anybody  else's;  anyway,  the  doctor  al- 
ways strokes  my  nose.  He  looked  into  my  eyes 
and  said:  "What  beautiful  eyes!  They  almost 
speak!"  I  did  speak,  too,  in  my  horse  way,  , 
and  I  am  sure  he  understood  me. 

They  stood  a  few  minutes  talking  about  me 
and  when  the  doctor  took  me  by  the  halter  to 
lead  me  into  the  stable,  my  new  home,  Mr. 
Lloyd  cried:  "Hold  on;  I  want  to  see  him 
once  more  before  you  take  him  away."  He 
rubbed  his  hand  all  over  my  shoulder  and  back 
and  down  each  leg;  he  took  my  feet  in  his 
hands  and  looked  at  them  and  he,  too,  stroked 
my  nose,  and  drawing  a  long  breath  of  satis- 
faction, exclaimed:  "Doctor,  you  have  the 
finest  horse  in  Rock  Island  County!" 

Before  I  reached  the  stable,  the  doctor's  wife 
came  out,  and  she  said  so  much.  She  stroked 
my  nose  and  admired  me:  "What  a  pretty 
head!"     And  really  so  many  nice  things  were 


8  DON 

said  about  me  before  I  got  into  the  barn  that 
I  was  quite  happy,  although  I  did  miss  my 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  my  mother. 

II 

/  AM  NAMED  AND  BROKEN  IN 

HAD  not  found  out  yet  what  I  should  have 
to  do,  but  the  next  day  Mr.  Lloyd  came 
and  put  a  harness  on  me  and  put  me  into 
the  same  two-wheeled  carriage  behind  which 
he  had  led  me  from  my  home  a  week  previous. 
Then  my  troubles  began.  I  just  didn't  know 
anything.  I  had  seen  horses  trotting  along  the 
road,  with  harnesses  on  and  hitched  to  car- 
riages: it  seemed  easy,  but  it  wasn't.  The 
bridle  they  put  on  my  head  hurt  my  ears.  The 
big  iron  thing,  that  I  afterwards  learned  was  a 
bit,  hurt  my  mouth.  They  pulled  one  way  and 
I  didn't  know  what  they  meant;  they  pulled 
the  other  and  I  didn't  know  any  more.  First 
I  thought  I  would  run  away;  then  I  thought  I 
would  kick,  but  Mr.  Lloyd  was  so  kind  and 
gentle  to  me  that   I  just  tried   to  do  what  he 


NAMED    AND    BROKEN    IN      9 

wanted  me  to.  Before  that  lesson  was  over  I 
could  walk  along  quietly;  I  learned  that  which- 
ever Hne  he  pulled  I  must  turn  that  way,  and 
I  got  along  first  rate.  When  he  took  me  out, 
he  rewarded  me  with:  "Good  fellow.  I  never 
saw  a  colt  learn  so  fast." 

Just  then  the  doctor's  wife  came  out  and 
asked  what  my  name  was.  "Why,"  Mr.  Lloyd 
said,  "  he  hasn't  any  name;    he  is  just  a  colt." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  call  him  Don"  and  Don 
I  have  been  ever  since. 

Every  day  after  this  Mr.  Lloyd  came  and 
drove  me.  I  thought  it  was  odd  that  he  should 
do  it  every  time  when  I  belonged  to  the  doctor, 
but  I  afterwards  learned  that  doctors  have  to 
work  hard  and  haven't  time  to  drive  colts 
which  don't  know  how  to  go,  and  that  Mr. 
Lloyd  was  teaching  me  all  about  the  streets, 
how  to  go,  which  way  to  turn  and  all  that,  — 
what  he  called  breaking  me  in.  He  didn't 
break  me;   he  just  taught  me. 

I  saw  the  doctor  almost  every  day,  but  there 
seemed  to  be  something  the  matter  with  him. 
He   couldn't   get   into   the   two-wheeled   gig,   so 


lo  DON     . 

he  never  went  to  ride  after  me.  He  walked 
lame;  I  thought  he  was  a  young  man,  but  he 
walked  like  an  old  man.  One  day  I  heard  him 
tell  Mr.  Lloyd  that  he  had  fallen  and  hurt  his 
back  and  that  he  had  rheumatism.  I  didn't 
know  what  that  meant  then,  but  /  do  now;  I 
could  write  a  book  on  rheumatism.  I  think,  if 
I  am  successful  in  writing  this  autobiography 
and  people  Hke  it,  I  shall  write  a  book  on 
rheumatism  in  horses. 

Well,  pretty  soon  the  doctor's  wife  began  to 
ride  with  Mr.  Lloyd  when  he  took  me  out. 
Then  I  felt  very  important.  The  first  time  I 
went  up  Second  Avenue  with  Mr.  Lloyd  and 
the  lady  behind  me,  I  felt  proud.  Everybody 
looked  at  me  and  I  knew  I  was  being  admired. 

I  heard  a  man  say:  "There  goes  a  beautiful 
horse;  he  looks  like  a  Morgan."  I  didn't  know 
then  what  a  Morgan  was,  but  since  I  have 
learned  all  about  the  Morgan,  —  I  am  a  Mor- 
gan, the  finest  ancestry  a  horse  can  have.  You 
know  people  in  Boston  are  proud  of  their 
ancestors.  I  didn't  think  so  much  about  it  when 
I  was  younger  and  lived  in  the  West,  but  since 


THE    DOCTOR'S    ASSISTANT     ii 

I  came  here  I  have  just  Iain  awake  nights  and 
thought  about  it  —  so  proud  to  think  I  am  a 
Morgan! 

I  remember  one  day  after  I  came  to  Boston 
a  friend  of  the  doctor's  came  out  to  the  barn  to 
see  me,  and  the  first  thing  he  said  when  I 
turned  round  and  said  "How  do  you  do?"  (as 
I  always  do  when  any  one  comes  into  the  barn), 
was  "Why,  he  is  a  Morgan!"  My  master 
smiled:  "You  are  the  first  man  in  Boston  to 
recognize  his  pedigree." 

HI 
/  BECOME  THE  DOCTOR'S  ASSISTANT 


HAT  is  getting  ahead  of  my  story;  I 
must  go  back  to  Rock  Island.  Shortly 
^  after  I  came  to  live  with  the  doctor,  he 
went  away.  I  didn't  know  when  he  went:  he 
hadn't  said  anything  to  me  about  it;  but  I 
didn't  see  him  for  a  long  time  and  I  wondered 
what  had  happened  and  why  he  didn't  come  out 
to  see  me.  I  began  to  feel  hurt;  I  wanted  him 
to   stroke   my   nose   and   talk   to   me   about   it. 


12  DON 

Then  I  heard  Mr.  Lloyd  ask  the  doctor's  wife 
when  he  would  return  and  she  said:  "He  is 
very  much  better.     I  expect  him  tomorrow." 

I  never  shall  forget  the  day  he  came  back. 
The  doctor's  wife  drove  me  herself  alone  (just 
think  of  that!)  to  the  depot  way  up  on  Fifth 
Avenue.  I  stood  looking  so  proud,  when  the 
doctor  got  off  the  train  and  came  straight  to- 
wards me,  not  a  bit  lame,  quite  well.  That  to 
me  was  what  people  call  a  Red  Letter  Day.  I 
don't  just  know  what  that  means,  but  it  was  a 
happy  day.  The  doctor  came  up  and  stroked 
my  nose  and  said:  "Oh,  he  looks  prettier  every 
day.  What  a  beautiful  mane  and  tail  he  has! 
And  I  think  he  has  the  most  beautiful  leg  I 
ever  saw  on  a  colt." 

From  that  time  on  the  doctor  drove  me  on 
his  daily  rounds,  going  about  the  city  making 
calls.  He  always  took  my  mistress  or  the 
stable  boy  who  cared  for  me.  I  enjoyed  every 
minute:  my  master  was  so  kind  to  me.  I  had 
gotten  used  to  the  harness  and  the  bit  and  the 
bridle.  They  didn't  hurt  me,  and  I  just  liked 
to  trot  up   and   down   the  streets  carrying  the 


THE    DOCTOR'S    ASSISTANT     13 

doctor  to  this  and  that  house.  Everybody  spoke 
to  me  and  the  doctor  called  me  his  partner. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  give  some  description  of 
myself;  so  that,  if  any  of  the  readers  of  this 
book  should  happen  to  meet  me  on  the  street, 
they  might  recognize  me.  My  color  is  what 
is  known  as  chestnut,  and  my  mane  and  tail 
very  much  the  same  shade.  I  am  going  now 
to  make  a  confession.  I  hope  nobody  will  stop 
reading  my  book  on  account  of  it;  but  I  started 
out  to  tell  the  truth,  and  I  must  tell  not  only 
the  truth  but  the  whole  truth:  I  have  four 
white  feet  and  a  white  nose! 

I  remember  the  first  time  my  master  saw  me 
he  exclaimed,  "Why,  Mr.  Lloyd,  he  has  four 
white  feet  and  a  white  nose!" 

Mr.  Lloyd  said,  "What  of  it.?" 

"My  father  always  said,"  replied  the  doctor: 

'  One  white  footy  buy  him; 
'  Two  white  feet,  deny  him; 
'  Three  white  feet^  try  him; 
Four  white  feet  and  a  white  nose^ 
'  Take  his  skin  off  and  give  him  to  the  crows.''* 


14  DON 

I  didn't  learn  all  of  that  the  first  time  I 
heard  him  say  it,  but  he  has  said  it  over  so 
many  times  that  I  know  it  just  as  well  as  he 
does.  My  master  doesn't  really  believe  in 
that  saying  and  he  didn't  then;  neither  do  I: 
I  think  it  is  a  good  thing  to  have  white  feet. 
Anyway,  my  feet  have  served  me  well,  all  of 
my  life.  Most  horses  have  more  or  less  trouble 
with  their  feet:  corns,  quarter  cracks  and  vari- 
ous other  troubles.  Nothing  of  that  kind  has 
ever  come  to  me,  so  I  am  rather  in  favor  of 
white  feet;  and  the  long  white  strip  in  my  nose 
I  think  has  been  my  chief  stock-in-trade.  I 
weigh  eleven  hundred  pounds. 

One  of  the  earliest  recollections  I  have  of 
living  in  Rock  Island  is  of  apples.  The  doctor 
liked  apples  very  much;  often  when  he  went 
out  he  ate  one  and  always  gave  me  half  of  it. 
I  have  never  gotten  over  my  appetite  for 
apples;  I  like  them  more  than  anything  else 
I  have  ever  eaten.  The  taste  of  apples  is  even 
better  to  me,  if  possible,  than  the  memory  of 
the  delicious  grass  I  used  to  eat  when  I  was  a 
little  colt.     That  is  why  I  remember  so  well  the 


GENERAL    HISTORY  15 

stable  boy,  Waldo.  He  was  a  high  school  boy 
and  he  would  not  wear  overalls,  would  wear 
his  best  clothes  in  the  stable.  That  made  the 
doctor  a  little  cross,  because  he  thought  Waldo 
could  not  take  such  good  care  of  me  if  he  didn't 
wear  overalls;  but  he  was  always  good  to  me: 
he  brushed  me  every  morning,  stroked  my  nose 
and  gave  me  apples;  and  I  don't  believe  I 
should  ever  forget  anybody  who  stroked  my 
nose  and  gave  me  apples. 

IV 

GENERAL   HISTORY 


HAVE  heard  my  master  say  that  biographies 
are  not  really  biographies,  but  more  or  less 
histories  of  the  times  and  events  of  the 
period  in  which  the  person  Hved  whose  biog- 
raphy or  autobiography  is  being  written.  Now, 
of  course  my  life  is  indissolubly  connected  with 
the  people  among  whom  I  have  lived  and  the 
events  that  have  transpired  during  my  life. 
While  the  life  of  a  horse  could  not,  in  the  same 
sense  as  the  life  of  a  man,  be  a  complete  history 


i6  DON 

of  the  period  in  which  he  has  Hved,  yet  even 
the  hfe  of  a  horse  in  a  limited  degree  may  have 
to  do  with  the  history  and  events  of  the  time  in 
which  he  Hved. 

Were  I  to  write  all  of  the  details  of  every 
day,  my  biography  would  be  barren  of  interest. 
It  would  not  even  have  the  merit  of  the  *' Diary 
of  a  Real  Boy,"  which  my  master  has  told  me 
about,  because  mine  would  not  be  even  funny; 
neither  would  it  be  valuable  as  history,  because 
ninety-nine  days  in  a  hundred  have  been  prac- 
tically just  alike.  So,  instead  of  taking  up  each 
day  or  week  or  month  or  year,  I  shall  relate 
events  (incidents  that  are  worth  more  than 
passing  notice),  in  my  own  life  and  in  those  of 
my  companions  and  friends,  whether  horses 
like  myself,  or  dogs  or  people. 

In  the  main,  all  of  my  own  life  has  been: 
three  meals  a  day,  rubbing  and  brushing, 
blankets  in  winter,  sheets  in  summer,  harnessed 
in  the  morning  and  either  long  or  short  rounds, 
usually  harnessed  in  the  afternoon  and  the  same 
humdrum  existence;  and  yet  my  days  have 
rarely    been    humdrum.     Hardly  a    day    in    my 


GENERAL    HISTORY  17 

life  has  passed  that  something  of  interest, 
something  that  has  Hfted  me  up  out  of  mere 
drudgery,  has  not  happened.  Many  of  the 
things  are  very  trivial,  sometimes  just  a  pleasant 
word  from  somebody. 

I  don't  believe  people  realize  how  much  good 
a  pleasant  word  does  a  horse  as  they  pass  him 
on  the  street,  even  if  the  horse  never  saw  the 
person  before  and  never  sees  him  again.  A 
thousand  times  my  day's  work  has  been  made 
easier  by  some  one,  —  a  man,  woman  or  child, 
—  speaking  to  me,  possibly  brushing  off  a  fly, 
or  patting  me  on  the  neck  or  nose.  My  master 
says  a  kind  act  or  word  is  never  lost;  I  am  sure 
of  one  thing,  that  a  kind  act  or  word  to  a  horse 
is  never  lost.  Why,  it  is  almost  as  much  to  an 
animal  as  his  food. 

I  don't  wish  to  appear  to  be  drawing  on  my 
reader's  sympathies  or  trying  to  create  sym- 
pathy, but  just  think  of  a  horse  being  in  the 
harness  all  the  forenoon  and  perhaps  all  the 
afternoon,  standing  fifteen  minutes  here  and 
half  an  hour  there,  or  an  hour  at  some  other 
place,    and   no  one  speaking  to   him   or  taking 


i8  DON 

any  notice  whatever  of  his  existence!  Oh,  it 
is  so  helpful  and  does  so  much  good  just  to  say 
even  one  pleasant,  bright  word  to  a  "dumb" 
animal.  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about;  I  am 
a  horse,  have  Hved  a  very  ordinary,  work-a-day 
horse  life;  and  if  there  is  any  purpose  in  writing 
this  book  other  than  as  a  pastime  and  with  the 
hope  perhaps  of  entertaining  some  one,  it  is  that 
I  may  impress  this  upon  everyone,  that  kind- 
ness goes  farther  with  horses  and  dogs,  and  I 
believe  all  animals,  than  anything  else,  farther 
than  any  one  can  imagine. 

In  relating  the  things  that  seem  to  me  of 
special  interest  that  have  happened  during  my 
life,  it  is  not  my  intention  to  make  a  connected 
story,  but  rather  separate,  distinct  little  sketches 
of  things  that  have  actually  happened,  descrip- 
tions of  the  good  times  that  I  have  had  and  the 
places  and  things  that  I  have  seen  and  enjoyed. 

As  you  will  learn  from  the  different  chapters 
in  the  book,  I  have  lived  a  part  of  my  life  in 
the  Mississippi  Valley  where  I  was  born,  and 
a  part  in  New  England  where  I  came  when  I 
was    fifteen    years    old.     So,    with    this    general 


SERMON    IN    THE    GARDEN    19 

history,  perh-aps  more  or  less  an  introduction, 
I  shall  go  on  and  relate  the  events  which  seem 
to  me  worth  telling,  somewhat  in  the  order  in 
which  they  happened. 


THE  SERMON  IN   THE  GARDEN 

"^^  HAVE  often  heard  my  master  say  that  the 
best  sermons  come  from  little  children,  and 
have  a  great  many  times  heard  him  tell 
his  friends  the  story  I  am  about  to  relate.  I 
was  myself  present  when  it  occurred,  and  re- 
member all  of  the  details.  It  happened  when 
I  had  been  with  the  doctor  a  year  or  two.  I 
remember  at  this  time  the  Reverend  S.  S. 
Cryor  and  family  lived  in  the  house  with  my 
master.  They  had  a  large  old-fashioned,  ram- 
bling house,  grounds  and  stable,  the  first  place 
in  which  I  lived  after  I  came  to  be  the  doctor's 
horse. 

One  day  my  master  and  mistress  were  out  in 
the  garden  at  work  among  the  flowers,  and  the 


20  DON 

three  little  Cryor  children  were  playing  about 
with  them.  They  were  beautiful  and  interest- 
ing children.  My  mistress  was  particularly 
fond  of  them.  Very  likely  they  were  not  so 
different  from  other  children;  but  we  seemed  to 
think  they  were.  Sydney,  the  eldest,  was  such 
a  little  man  at  six.  I  can  see  his  small,  white 
intelhgent  face  and  his  deep  dark  eyes  as  he 
would  look  up  at  me  when  I  was  hitched 
in  the  front  yard,  and  I  fancy  I  can  hear  him 
explaining  to  his  two  younger  brothers:  "Don't 
be  afraid;  Don  won't  hurt  you."  Little 
Clark  was  different  from  his  larger  brother,  — 
of  course  there  is  a  great  difference  between 
four  and  six!  They  were  never  separated  from 
each  other,  and  seldom  from  little  Teddy,  the 
two-year  old  baby.  They  made  a  pretty 
picture  running  and  playing  in  the  garden.  It 
seemed  as  if  they  never  disagreed  and  they  were 
not  always  crying  as  so  many  children  I  have 
seen.  Teddy  called  his  brothers  "Shinny"  and 
"Flark,"  but  when  referring  to  them  in  connec- 
tion with  himself  he  would  say  grandly,  "  Us 
boys!"  —  "Oh,    let's    us    boys    give    Old    Don 


SERMON    IN    THE    GARDEN    21 

some  grass";  and  off  the  three  mites  would 
scamper  to  gather  great  handfuls  of  fresh  grass 
from  the  fence  corners  and  hold  up  for  me  to 
eat. 

On  the  day  of  which  I  am  speaking,  I  had 
been  harnessed  and  left  standing  near  the  stable 
facing  the  house  and  garden,  waiting  for  Master 
to  come  out  with  me  and  make  calls.  Bess,  a 
playful,  romping  puppy,  a  thoroughbred  Gor- 
don setter,  had  just  come  to  live  with  us.  She 
was  frisking  about  the  yard,  playing  with  the 
children.  Gyp,  an  Enghsh  setter,  and  my 
special  friend  at  that  time,  was  there  also,  di- 
viding his  attention  impartially  among  us. 
Gyp  always  had  an  air  of  great  responsibility, 
as  if  we  were  all  his  especial  charges. 

In  the  midst  of  this  gaiety,  a  shabby,  crin- 
ging dog  came  into  the  yard,  creeping  up  to  see 
if  he  could  not  get  into  the  game  and  enjoy 
life  a  little  with  the  others,  who  seemed  so  very 
happy.  When  my  mistress  discovered  him  she 
gave  a  start  of  dismay,  and  shook  her  skirts 
at  him  crying,  **Get  out  of  here,  you  mangy 
cur!" 


22  DON 

Now  comes  the  sermon.  Little  Clark,  his 
lip  quivering,  whimpered  in  his  baby  voice, 
"Don't!     Mebbe  him  ain't  dot  any  home." 

I  saw  tears  in  my  master's  eyes.  He  often 
says  that  he  never  heard  a  sermon  which  made 
such  an  impression  upon  his  whole  life  as  did 
those  few  baby  words.  I  don't  know  that  it 
was  little  Clark's  sermon  which  made  him  es- 
pecially kind  to  dogs,  but  I  do  know  that  he 
always  has  been;  and  a  little  later  I  am  going 
to  tell  you  more  about  our  experiences  with 
dogs,  —  I  say  "our":  I  feel  that  everything 
connected  with  my  master's  family  for  the  last 
twenty-five  years  is  ours. 

VI 

ROCK  ISLAND  ISLAND 

THE    WOOD    DRIVES    TO   THE    " MONARCH" 

HEN  I  first  began  to  work,  the  con- 
dition of  the  streets  in  Rock  Island 
was  much  different  from  that  of  a 
few  years  later.  There  were  very  few  pave- 
ments;   most  of  the  streets  were  of  soft  earth. 


ROCK    ISLAND    ISLAND       23 

and  of  course  they  were  very  muddy  in  the  fall 
and  spring.  Later,  when  more  of  the  streets 
were  paved  with  brick,  they  were  very  hard  on 
one's  feet,  and  there  was  a  great  contrast  be- 
tween the  brick-paved  streets  of  the  city  and 
stone-paved  Island  Avenue,  and  the  beautiful 
woodsy  roads  of  soft  earth  upon  the  Island 
itself. 

One  of  the  greatest  treats  of  the  earlier  years 
of  my  life  was  going  over  to  the  Island  and 
winding  through  those  delightfully  cool  drives. 
Perhaps  everyone  does  not  know  that  there 
are  miles  and  miles  of  these  drives,  just  natural 
wood-dirt  roads  through  the  forests  of  the 
Island.  There  was  one  main  avenue  extending 
three  miles  through  the  whole  Island,  hard 
macadam  road,  and  one  or  two  similar  roads 
crossed  the  Island;  but  all  the  others  were  of 
the   sylvan    type. 

I  remember  one  drive  in  particular:  turning 
from  the  Main  Avenue  to  the  right,  we  crossed 
the  spur  track  of  railroad  and  went  into  the 
deep  woods,  along  by  the  water  power  the  east 
side  of  the  Island,  —  a  long  drive  of  soft  black 


24  DON 

earth.  It  was  never  dusty,  and  we  never  went 
there  when  it  was  muddy;  hence  it  was  always 
deHghtful  driving,  so  easy  on  one's  feet. 

We  went  that  way  often,  for  about  half  the 
distance  up  the  drive  was  an  enormous  tree, 
(the  "Monarch"),  enormous  for  that  section 
which  has  usually  been  regarded  as  a  treeless 
country.  General  Flagler  had  had  seats  made, 
and  a  place  where  horses  could  stand,  and  we  al- 
ways stopped  when  we  got  there.  Master  would 
get  out  and  sit  looking  up  into  the  tree.  I  have 
heard  him  so  many  times  say  that  it  was  a  big 
tree  for  the  West,  but  that  it  would  not  amount 
to  much  in  the  East.  He  seemed  to  think 
there  were  no  trees  in  that  part  of  the  West; 
and,  since  I  have  Hved  in  New  England,  I  agree 
with  him:  we  do  have  such  lovely  trees  in 
New  England.  Still,  the  ''Monarch"  was  a 
fine  tree.  I  guess  everybody  in  the  three  cities 
at  some  time  or  other  in  their  lives  had  visited 
the  "Monarch." 

We  used  to  go  through  the  woods  gathering 
wild  flowers.  My  master  had  a  special  permit 
from  General  Flagler  to  study  botany  upon  the 


A    DOG'S    APPRECIATION     25 

Island,  and  he  could  pick  flowers  anywhere  and 
at  all  times.  If  any  of  the  guards  saw  him, 
all  he  had  to  do  was  to  show  his  pass;  but 
most  of  the  guards  knew  him  and  he  rarely  had 
to  do  this. 

While  there  are  beautiful  parks  and  boule- 
vards and  trees  in  New  England,  no  place  in 
all  the  world  could  be  to  me  quite  like  the 
Island  and  its  lovely  woodsy  drives. 


VII 

A   DOG'S   APPRECIATION 

y'^ERHAPS  right  here  will  be  a  good  time 
to  tell  another  dog  story.  We  were  driv- 
"^^  ing  one  day,  master,  mistress  and  myself, 
along  the  bottom-land  near  the  Mississippi 
River,  between  Rock  Island  and  Rock  River. 
It  was  in  what  is  known  as  South  Rock  Island. 
There  was  no  regular  road,  but  a  private  wood- 
path,  through  which  people  sometimes  drove. 
I  think  my  master  was  down  there  exploring, 
looking  for  birds, — just   resting. 


26  DON 

I  remember  seeing  on  that  trip  the  worst 
looking  httle  colt!  His  mane  and  tail  were 
full  of  burdock  burrs,  and  he  looked  so  thin  and 
scrawny,  I  felt  almost  ashamed  to  think  he 
belonged  to  the  horse  family;  but  he  ran  away, 
and  we  could  not  catch  him  or  do  anything  for 
him. 

Farther  along  —  I  was  walking  slowly.  Master 
and  Mistress  talking  about  the  birds  and  scen- 
ery —  we  saw  a  big,  cross-looking  dog,  as  large 
as  a  calf,  lying  beside  the  road.  He  really 
frightened  me  and  I  shied;  I  don't  know  but 
that  I  came  very  near  tipping  them  over.  The 
doctor  told  me  not  to  be  afraid.  He  made  me 
stop  opposite  the  dog,  and  started  to  get  out, 
but  Mistress  exclaimed:  "Oh,  don't!  The  dog 
might   bite  you." 

"He  won't  bite  me,"  said  the  doctor;  "he 
is  in  trouble:  he  is  sick  or  has  broken  his  leg, 
or  has  something  in  his  foot." 

I  myself  felt  that  the  dog  would  bite  him, 
but  he  walked  right  up  to  him  talking  in  sooth- 
ing tones:  "Poor  old  fellow!  What's  the 
matter?" 


A    DOG'S    APPRECIATION     27 

The  dog  at, first  looked  cross,  but  I  could  see 
his  face  change  as  the  doctor  came  nearer  and 
put  one  hand  on  his  head,  reaching  down  with 
the  other  to  take  hold  of  the  foot,  and  talking 
all  of  the  time:  "Well,  old  boy,  if  you're  in 
trouble,  let  me  help  you." 

The  dog  showed  his  teeth  but  not  in  an 
angry  way,  rather  in  fear  lest  he  be  hurt,  or 
as  an  expression  of  pain.  My  master  gently 
stroked  one  leg  and  then  the  other,  and  finally 
picked  up  the  foot  that  was  swollen.  He 
could  see  it  had  been  bleeding  and  there  was 
matter  all  over  it.  On  close  inspection  he 
found  a  large  thorn  had  pierced  entirely  through 
the  soft  part  of  one  of  the  toes;  and  that  the 
dog  in  trying  to  remove  it,  had  gnawed  oflF 
the  end  of  the  thorn,  so  of  course  could  not 
pull  it  out.  The  doctor  found  he  couldn't 
remove  it  with  his  fingers,  and  went  back  to  the 
buggy  for  his  forceps. 

I  remember  so  well  how  the  dog  watched  him 
and  listened  while  he  talked:  "Good  old  fellow! 
I  won't  hurt  you;  I'll  take  that  thing  out  and 
you   will   soon   be  well."     With   the  forceps   he 


28  DON 

got  hold  of  the  end  of  the  thorn,  the  dog  growl- 
ing or  groaning  (I  couldn't  tell  which  from 
where  I  stood),  and  finally  said:  "There!  It's 
out;    don't  you  feel  better?" 

The  dog  wagged  his  tail,  licked  Master's 
hand,  whined  and  in  other  ways  showed  his 
appreciation  of  the  service  rendered  him. 


VIII 

/  RUN  AWAY 

THINK  the  most  of  my  story  will  be 
about  the  good  things  that  I  have  done, 
and  that  may  seem  egotistical;  but  I  really 
shall  try  to  relate  things  just  as  they  happened, 
and  if  I  am  to  tell  all  the  good  and  useful 
things,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  tell  the  other  side 
also. 

I  had  been  with  the  doctor  but  a  short  time 
when  I  got  loose  one  day  in  the  stable.  We  then 
lived  on  Fourth  Avenue,  and  as  the  door  was 
open,  and  no  one  there  to  prevent  me,  I  slipped 
out  into  the  alley.     In  most  western  cities  nearly 


I    RUN    AWAY  29 

every  street  -  is  paralleled  by  an  alley,  so 
there  are  just  as  many  and  just  as  long  alleys 
as  streets;  and  when  I  stepped  out  of  the  stable 
door,  I  was  loose  in  the  alley  and  free  to  go 
where  I  would.  How  I  did  run  up  and  down 
that  alley,  and  what  a  noise  I  made,  and  how 
many  people  came  out  to  their  back  fences  to  see 
me  go  tearing  up  and  down.  It  was  a  time 
when  my  master  was  away,  but  my  mistress 
soon  discovered  that  I  was  out,  and  she  and  the 
man  tried  to  induce  me  to  come  in. 

I  remember  seeing  the  man  (he  was  a 
Swede  by  the  name  of  Oscar)  come  creeping 
up  to  me  with  a  pail  of  oats,  trying  to  fool  me 
into  thinking  he  only  wanted  to  feed  me.  I 
knew  just  as  well  as  he  did  that  he  wanted  to 
catch  me,  but  I  took  his  oats  until  he  started 
to  put  his  hand  on  top  of  my  head;  then  I 
was  gone.  Oscar  failing,  my  mistress  took  the 
pail  and  tried  to  coax  me,  and  I  ate  the  oats 
from  the  pail  for  her;  but  when  I  saw  Oscar 
stealing  up  behind  me,  I  kicked  up  my  heels 
and  ran.  I  kept  those  poor  people  busy  nearly 
all  that  afternoon,  and  when  I  was  tired  out  and 


30  DON 

had  had  fun  enough,  I  let  Oscar  walk  up  to  me 
and  put  the  halter  on,  and  I  went  back  to  the 
stable. 

I  headed  this  confession,  "I  Run  Away,"  but 
I  didn't  really.  I  didn't  get  five  blocks  from 
home,  and  about  all  I  did  do  was  to  prance  up 
and  down  that  alley  and  keep  my  people  chas- 
ing me.  People  are  apt  to  think  a  horse  has 
no  sense  of  humor.  I  want  everybody  who 
reads  this  book  to  distinctly  understand  that  I 
have  had  lots  of  fun  in  my  time,  and  usually 
at  the  expense  of  some  human,  as  in  this  case. 

Later,  after  I  came  to  Boston,  I  did  run  away. 
It  was  in  the  spring  of  the  year  when  it  was 
muddy,  and  I  think  my  master  was  busy  and 
felt  that  he  could  get  around  better  without 
me  than  with  me;  so  I  had  been  left  for  weeks 
practically  all  of  the  time  in  the  stable;  and  I 
was  crazy  to  get  out,  to  roll  in  the  grass,  run 
up  and  down  the  streets  and  see  things.  I 
felt  every  fiber  in  my  body  alive  and  I  really 
watched  for  an  opportunity  to  get  away.  I 
don't  think  I  had  any  idea  of  leaving  my  home 
and   my   master,   but   I   wanted   to   get  out,   to 


I    RUN    AWAY  31 

run,  to  kick  up  my  heels,  to  smell  the  earth  and 
breathe  the  fresh   air. 

My  hour  came.  The  man  always  unsnapped 
the  rope  from  my  halter  when  he  let  me  drink. 
One  day  while  I  was  drinking  at  the  trough  he 
took  his  hand  from  my  halter  to  get  something 
back  in  the  stable  and  I  realized  that  this  was 
my  chance.  I  gave  one  bound  and  was  out 
in  the  driveway,  and  with  two  more  I  was  in 
the  street,  and  off.  I  didn't  know  where  I  was 
going,  but  I  ran  and  trotted  and  galloped  until 
I  had  left  my  home   and    stable   far   behind. 

The  man  was  very  much  frightened;  he 
started  after  me  crying,  "Whoa,  Don,  whoa!" 
You  could  as  easily  have  stopped  an  engine 
with  whoa  as  stopped  me  that  morning.  I  was 
out  to  see  the  world  and  get  fresh  air  into  my 
lungs  and  have  some  fun  once  more.  I  hadn't 
lived  here  long  and  hadn't  been  around  so  much, 
but  I  knew  in  which  direction  FrankUn  Park 
was  and  I  headed  for  it.  I  was  soon  in  that 
big,  beautiful  place,  and  I  jumped  over  the  road 
and  walks  and  was  out  in  the  field  and  planta- 
tions eating  the  grass,  rolling  on  the  ground  and 


32  DON 

having  the  very  best  time  that  I  ever  remember 
having  in  my  grown-up  Hfe. 

Pretty  soon  I  saw  the  man  coming.  We 
called  him  *'01d  John";  I  don't  know  why. 
He  was  not  very  old  but  that  was  his  name. 
He  too  had  a  pail  of  oats.  I  wonder  why  it  is 
that,  when  anybody  starts  out  to  catch  a  horse, 
he  always  takes  a  pail  of  oats.  Do  people 
think  that  a  horse  has  no  ideas  or  aspirations 
above  his  stomach  ?  Nobody  ever  got  me  with 
a  pail  of  oats.  I  like  oats,  but  when  I  am  out 
for  a  lark,  I  prefer  the  lark  to  the  oats.  So 
I  let  Old  John  get  almost  up  to  me,  coaxing 
me  with  the  oats  (I  didn't  want  oats  anyway; 
I  preferred  the  grass),  and  when  he  was  within 
about  ten  feet  of  me,  I  bounded  away. 

By  this  time  I  was  way  over  in  the  Playstead. 
I  had  a  great  time  over  there.  The  grass  had 
got  a  good  start;  it  was  in  the  condition  that 
the  farmers  in  the  west  describe  as  "up  to  your 
eyes."  Here  I  had  my  first  encounter  with  a 
Boston  policeman,  and  he  wasn't  really  a  Boston 
but  a  park  policeman.  I  have  since  learned  to 
like  the  park  policemen;    I  know  nearly  all  of 


I    RUN    AWAY  33 

them  and  they  know  me,  know  my  name,  and 
often  stop  and  speak  to  me.  I  beheve  my 
master  thinks  they  are  speaking  to  him,  but 
I  know  in  reahty  they  are  talking  to  me. 

But  this  was  before  I  had  any  particular 
reputation  in  Boston,  and  the  poHceman  tried 
to  get  me  out  of  the  Playstead.  I  just  played 
with  him;  when  he  came  too  near  me,  I  moved 
off  to  some  other  part;  and  I  stayed  there  for 
an  hour  or  more.  By  and  by  I  spied  John  and 
the  same  policeman  coming  towards  me.  Old 
John  had  the  halter  and  the  pail  of  oats.  Well, 
I  was  rather  tired  of  it,  so  when  he  got  near 
me,  I  trotted  off  towards  home.  I  was  soon  out 
of  the  park,  and  I  have  never  been  in  the  park 
since  except  to  drive. 

When  I  got  down  near  the  barn,  half  a  dozen 
people  with  my  master  and  mistress,  were  out 
trying  to  head  me  into  the  barn.  I  felt  of- 
fended at  this,  —  as  if  I  didn't  know  enough  to 
go  home!  If  they  had  let  me  alone,  I  should 
have  gone  into  the  barn;  but,  as  they  seemed 
inclined,  I  thought  I  would  give  them  a  little 
chase;    so  I  galloped  off  down  Standish  Street 


34  DON 

to  Wescott  Street  and  down  Wescott  Street  to 
Talbot  Avenue.  They  were  building  the  rail- 
road bridge  over  Talbot  Avenue.  It  wasn't 
even  nearing  completion,  and  there  was  just 
room  for  me  to  get  under  it.  Under  I  went  and 
scampered  off  up  Talbot  Avenue  towards  Wash- 
ington Street,  with  the  whole  family  and  half 
the  neighborhood  following  me. 

I  began  to  feel  tired  and  had  had  enough  of 
it  for  one  day,  so  up  somewhere  near  Spencer 
Street  I  let  my  master  come  up  to  me.  I 
licked  his  hand  and  made  no  resistance  when  he 
took  hold  of  my  halter,  and  we  walked  off  to 
the  barn.  I  tell  you  that  was  a  great  day:  I 
had  a  fine  outing! 

IX 
ROCK  ISLAND  ARSENAL 

AFTER    writing    about    the    drives    and 
woods  upon  the  Island  of  Rock  Island, 
it  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  I  was 
selfish   in   describing  only   the   things   that  had 
particularly  appealed   to  me  as   a   horse.     Pos- 


ROCK    ISLAND    ARSENAL    35 

sibly  some  one  who  reads  these  little  sketches 
might  like  to  know  something  about  Rock 
Island  Island,  just  what  it  is  and  what  it  is 
used  for.  While  such  a  description  might  not 
seem  exactly  in  the  Hne  of  the  autobiography  of 
a  horse,  yet  I  don't  know  any  one  thing  that 
has  come  more  prominently  into  my  life  than 
the  Island,  or  the  Arsenal  as  it  is  usually  called, 
the  whole  Island  being  owned  by  the  United 
States  Government  and  used  as  a  manufacturing 
arsenal. 

Away  back  in  the  earlier  years  of  the  last 
century  it  was  the  scene  of  many  stirring  events, 
and  had  much  to  do  with  the  history  of  that 
section  of  the  country.  On  the  lower  point  of 
the  Island  there  was  a  little  fort,  consisting  of 
some  block  houses  and  store  houses,  called  Fort 
Armstrong,  garrisoned  by  United  States  soldiers. 
The  object  of  this  fort  and  garrison  was  the 
protection  of  the  settlers  from  the  various  bands 
of  Indians  who  originally  inhabited  this  section 
of  the  country,  prominent  among  whom  were 
the  tribes  of  Sacs  and  Foxes,  Chief  Black  Hawk 
being  the  central  figure  in  all  of  these  Indian  wars. 


36  DON 

At  one  time  somewhere  in  the  middle  of  the 
last  century  Jefferson  Davis,  as  a  lieutenant  in 
the  regular  army,  was  commandant  of  this 
Httle  fort;  and  a  singular  coincidence,  and 
perhaps  an  especially  interesting  bit  of  history 
of  this  section,  lies  in  the  fact  that  at  about  this 
time  Rock  Island  received  large  accessions  to 
its  population  from  what  was  known  as  the 
border  southern  states.  And  so  there  clustered 
about  this  fort,  which  was  afterwards  to  take 
such  a  commanding  position  in  the  history  of 
the  country,  many  southern  people,  one  of  whom 
was  to  become  the  chief  figure  in  the  great 
movements  of  the  Confederacy.  We  think  of 
Massachusetts  and  New  England  as  having 
been  the  backbone  (perhaps  with  New  York  and 
Pennsylvania  added)  of  the  support  of  the 
Union  Armies  and  the  Union  Cause  in  the  time 
of  the  great  Civil  War;  but  Illinois  of  all  the 
states  was  the  stanchest,  and  gave  most  in 
men  and  officers  and  generals,  besides  giving 
us  the  greatest  of  all  —  the  president,  Abraham 
Lincoln. 

It  might  be  of  interest  to  add  here  that  Rock 


ROCK    ISLAND    ARSENAL    37 

Island  itself, .  from  one  of  these  same  southern 
families,  gave  to  the  Cause  of  the  Union  and  the 
country  one  of  the  most  brilliant  of  all  our 
northern  generals,  who,  but  for  his  untimely 
death,  would  certainly  have  stood  side  by 
side  with  Sherman  and  Sheridan:  General  John 
Buford. 

My  master  has  always  taken  special  interest 
in  the  Island  and  its  history,  because  so  many 
of  our  intimate  friends  were  associated  so  closely 
with  it,  either  in  person  or  through  family 
connection.  The  two  brothers  of  General  John 
Buford  were  for  fifteen  years  our  nearest  neigh- 
bors, and  among  our  closest  friends;  and  there 
were  no  people  in  all  of  Rock  Island  whom  I, 
as  a  horse,  knew  better  or  who  knew  me  better 
than  these  two  brothers. 

The  Island  was  once  the  home  of  Colonel 
Davenport,  one  of  the  earliest  settlers  of  that 
region,  from  whom  the  city  of  Davenport  takes 
its  name.  It  was  a  prison  and  recruiting  sta- 
tion in  the  time  of  the  Civil  War,  and  was 
"finally  all  purchased  by  the  United  States 
Government  and   converted  to  its  present  use, 


38  DON 

that  of  a  great  national  arsenal  and  park.  It 
also  has  a  national  cemetery  for  both  the  Union 
and  Confederate  soldiers,  and  in  the  center  of 
the  highest  land  is  located  one  of  the  largest 
manufacturing  arsenals  in  the  world. 

This  arsenal  was  designed  by  General 
Rodman.  The  execution  of  these  designs  was 
largely  carried  out  by  Colonel  Flagler,  who  was 
afterwards  Chief  of  Ordnance.  How  well  I 
remember  the  Colonel:  his  huge  form,  his 
leonine  head,  but  a  heart  as  tender  as  that  of 
a  —  horse.  I  have  heard  my  master  say  that  he 
has  seen  him  shed  tears  over  Httle  things  that 
would  usually  draw  tears  only  from  women 
and  children:  a  big  man  with  strong  features, 
big  hands,  big  feet,  big  face,  and  if  you  told  him 
that  a  bird  had  lost  its  young  or  hurt  a  wing, 
and  if  you  described  it  well,  he  would  cry,  — 
one  of  the  most  lovable  men  I  ever  knew. 

I  have  been  to  his  house  a  great  many  times, 
as  we  always  went  there  when  the  Colonel  or 
his  wife,  son  or  daughter  was  sick.  His  home 
was  called  the  Commandant's  house,  and  it  was 
an    ideal    place.     It    was    surrounded    by    more 


ROCK    ISLAND    ARSENAL    39 

of  those  beautiful  trees  for  which  the  Island  is 
noted.  There  was  a  beautiful  greenhouse;  there 
were  smooth,  well-kept  lawns;  there  were 
lovely  birds,  and  Colonel  Flagler  (he  was  after- 
wards made  General)  kept  horses  and  a  lot  of 
fine  cows.  It  was  truly  a  charming  country 
home. 

Then  on  the  west  side  of  the  Island,  facing 
the  main  channel  of  the  Mississippi,  were  the 
homes  of  the  subordinate  officers.  I  remember 
many  of  those  men,  but  I  will  not  try  to  enu- 
merate  them. 

Colonel  Flagler  left  the  Island  to  take  a 
higher  position  in  the  Ordnance  service  before 
we  left  Rock  Island.  How  badly  everybody 
felt  and  how  badly  the  Colonel  felt!  The  first 
time  we  went  to  see  him  after  he  received  the 
word  that  he  was  to  be  transferred,  I  saw  him 
through  the  large  window  as  he  looked  up  from 
his  desk,  and  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears 
because  he  was  going  away. 

But  I  started  out  to  describe  the  Arsenal.  It 
is  not  my  intention  to  give  a  description  in 
detail.     That  can  be  found  in  histories  and  in 


40  DON 

other  books  relating  to  this  subject.  I  want  to 
tell  you  only  a  little  about  it. 

The  main  Arsenal  consisted  of  ten  immense 
solid  stone,  three-story  buildings,  furnishing  acre 
upon  acre  of  floor  space  for  all  kinds  of  machin- 
ery necessary  to  the  producing  of  ordnance.  I 
remember  General  Flagler  telHng  my  master 
one  day  that  it  would  be  possible  in  times  of 
war  for  that  Arsenal  to  arm  and  equip  com- 
plete ten  thousand  men  in  a  day,  furnishing 
everything  necessary  to  a  campaign,  that 
over  twenty  thousand  men  could  be  employed 
there  in  times  of  war;  —  and  then  the  Gene- 
ral's face  assumed  that  peculiar,  kindly,  far- 
away expression  and  he  added,  **But  I  hope 
that  it  will  never  be  used."  I  think  perhaps 
it  was  this  spirit  that  drew  us  so  near  to 
him. 

The  thing  about  the  Island  that  always 
seemed  to  attract  my  master,  and  so  of  course 
interested  me,  was  the  water  power.  Few 
people  realize  that  the  Mississippi  —  at  this 
point  so  broad  and  having  such  an  enormous 
volume  of  water  —  is  utilized  as  a  water  power 


ROCK    ISLAND    ARSENAL     41 

to  make  the  .wheels  of  this  great  Arsenal  go 
round. 

This  water  power  is  formed  by  placing  a 
dam  across  the  smallest  part  of  the  river,  which 
is  separated  from  the  main  river  by  the  Island 
of  Rock  Island.  The  island  is  at  a  place  in 
the  river  known  as  the  Rapids,  so  that  the 
current  is  quite  swift,  and  in  the  length  of  the 
Island,  which  is  three  miles,  there  is  a  fall  of 
something  like  seven  to  nine  feet.  By  dam- 
ming this  very  small  part  of  the  river  and  then 
blasting  and  digging  out  the  lower  part  of  this 
channel  for  a  tail-race,  the  Government  has  a 
water  power  with  a  fall  of  about  nine  feet  and 
practically  the  whole  Mississippi  behind  it. 
Upon  this  dam,  which  is  one  of  the  finest  struc- 
tures of  the  kind  in  the  world,  of  solid  stone  and 
masonry,  is  built  the  wheel-house  and  power- 
house that  furnish   the   power. 

It  has  been  thought  by  some  an  odd  place 
to  build  an  arsenal,  so  far  from  either  sea- 
coast,  but  the  idea  of  the  Government  officials 
who  had  charge  of  establishing  the  Arsenal  was 
to  have  it  entirely  inland  and  safe  from  inva- 


42  DON 

sion,  and  also  central  for  distribution;  and 
perhaps  chiefly  because  it  was  upon  one  of  the 
greatest  water  ways  of  the  country  as  well  as 
of  the  whole  world. 


X 

FORTY-FIFE  MILES  SAVED 

DON'T  intend  (I  presume  it  would  not  be 
proper)  to  tell  too  much  about  my  master's 
business  or  his  successes;  and  yet,  wherein 
they  particularly  affected  me,  and  especially  if 
I  took  unusual  interest  in  them,  I  see  no  im- 
propriety in  my  relating  some  of  these  experi- 
ences. I  am  going  to  tell  something  now  about 
the  Princess.  That  was  not  her  name,  and  I 
believe  she  was  not  a  real  princess;  although 
my  master  always  called  her  "The  Princess," 
and  I  know  she  was  a  royal  good  child. 

The  title  of  this  chapter  may  seem  odd,  so  I 
am  going  to  explain  right  here  why  I  have  given 
it.  That  is  just  the  number  of  miles  (forty- 
five)  that  we  saved  by  my  master  driving  me  to 


FORTY-FIVE    MILES    SAVED     43 

the  front  entrance  of  the  house  of  the  Princess 
rather  than  to  the  rear,  down  by  the  stable 
where  there  was  a  sheltered  place  and  where  he 
usually  drove  me  when  I  went  to  this  house. 
During  the  period  of  which  I  am  writing  he 
went  there  so  many  times,  and  so  often,  that 
he  felt  to  save  time  he  would  have  to  leave  me 
standing  in  front  of  the  house  in  a  more  or  less 
exposed  position,  as  the  distance  was  three  or 
four  hundred  feet  less.  I  heard  my  master  say 
that  he  had  carefully  figured  it  up  and  he  had 
saved  forty-five  miles  of  travel. 

The  Princess  had  just  come  into  the  family, 
and  oh,  they  were  so  proud  and  fond  of  her; 
because  there  had  been  no  little  girls  in  the 
family  for  nearly  forty  years.  She  had  been 
here  only  a  day  when  this  severe  illness  came 
upon  her.  She  was  so  very  sick  that  my  master 
stayed  there  nearly  all  of  the  time  for  several 
days,  and  when  he  was  away  his  assistant.  Dr. 

G ,  was  there;  so  that  the  little  patient  was 

not  left  without  the  watchful  care  of  one  or  the 
other  of  the  physicians  for  many  days.  By  and 
by  she  got  better  and  seemed    to  be  all  right. 


44  DON 

Master  zvas  greatly  pleased  and  all  of  the  family 
were  happy. 

When  the  Princess  was  just  two  weeks  old, 
she  was  again  taken  very  sick;  and,  although 
Master  was  still  going  several  times  a  day  to 
see  her,  this  new  illness  came  on  when  he  was 
not  there.  He  was  hastily  summoned  in  the 
night  and  I  remember  how  fast  he  drove  me. 
When  he  arrived  all  was  confusion.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  little  lady  could  live  but  a  very  short 
time.     The  man  drove   me  right  back  for   Dr. 

G ,  and  before  morning  they  had  summoned 

two  other  physicians  in  consultation  and  to  assist. 

Of  course  in  my  long  experience  I  have  heard 
a  great  deal  about  temperatures,  or  heat  of  the 
body.  When  people  are  sick,  they  are  much 
hotter  than  when  they  are  well;  the  tempera- 
ture is  higher.  I  know  this  myself:  if  I  have  a 
cold,  I  am  unusually  warm,  —  my  temperature  is 
higher.  When  I  have  sprained  my  ankle  or 
hurt  my  knee,  I  have  heard  my  master  say  that 
my  foot  and  leg  were  hot. 

Well,  this  night  about  which  I  am  writing, 
after  the  other  two  doctors  arrived  (there  were 


FORTY-FIVE    MILES    SAVED     45 

four  of  them  altogether),  they  came  down  into 
the  front  hall  to  talk  over  the  case,  and  I  heard 
my  master  say,  "That  is  the  highest  tempera- 
ture I  have  ever  seen."  They  all  agreed  that  it 
was  the  highest  they  had  ever  seen.  They 
talked  a  good  deal  about  it  and  each  one  said 
he  would  not  have  believed  it  had  he  not  seen 
it,  and  would  not  have  taken  the  record  of  any 
one  or  two  thermometers;  but,  as  all  four  had 
taken  the  temperature  with  four  different  ther- 
mometers, and  as  in  each  instance  it  registered 
109,  they  could  not  doubt  it. 
In   a  little  while  the  other  two  doctors  left, 

and  pretty  soon  Dr.  G came  out  and  drove 

me  away  leaving  my  master  at  the  house.     He 

stayed  there  all  that  day.     I  carried  Dr.  G 

up  every  three  or  four  hours,  but  my  master 
never  left  the  house.  I  afterwards  learned  that 
he  worked  upon  the  Princess  all  day,  and  before 
night  was  rewarded,  having  removed  the  cause 
of  the  little  sufferer's  serious  condition;  her  tem- 
perature had  dropped  to  nearly  normal  and  she 
was  safe.  The  disease  had  made  such  ravages 
on  so  young  a  child,  however,  that  it  required 


46  DON 

a  great  deal  of  care  and  attention  to  get  her 
back  to  normal  babyhood,  and  we  went  there 
two  or  three  times  every  day  for  the  next  three 
weeks;  i.e.,  we  saved  forty-five  miles  travel  in 
five  weeks. 

As  I  am  writing  these  lines  about  the  little 
Princess,  telling  of  her  tiny  babyhood  and  her 
serious  illnesses,  she  is  a  charming  young  lady  of 
twenty-two  with  admirers  of  her  grace  and 
beauty  and  sweetness  all  over  two  hemispheres. 
I  love  to  tell  this  little  story  of  the  Princess, 
for  I  know  that  her  father  and  mother,  grand- 
mamma and  aunt  were  among  the  best  friends 
my  master  and  I  ever  had. 


XI 
A    YOUTHFUL   ESCAPADE 


T^T^F  "FHEN  I  was  four  years  old  my  master 
thought  I  was  a  well-broken,  steady 
old  horse;  and  I  thought  so  myself. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  always  been  a  horse 
driving   round    the   streets    of   Rock    Island.     I 


W 


A    YOUTHFUL    ESCAPADE    47 

had  gotten  so  I  knew  all  parts  of  the  three 
cities  and  felt  quite  at  home  in  my  stable,  in 
the  harness  and  in  the  carriage  driving  about; 
and  thought  I  was,  as  my  master  had  said 
repeatedly,  a  perfectly  safe  horse  for  a  lady 
to  drive.  In  fact  my  mistress  often  drove 
me. 

One  day,  however,  my  master  had  planned 
to  take  a  trip  about  fifteen  miles  into  the  coun- 
try, to  the  town  of  Reynolds.  I  didn't  know 
anything  about  the  proposed  trip,  and  when  I 
was  hitched  up  and  finally  started  out  I  sup- 
posed it  was  on  my  regular  rounds;  but  we 
kept  on  driving  towards  the  country,  out 
through  South  Rock  Island  to  the  town  of 
Sears,  through  Sears  and  over  the  five  bridges 
which  span  the  five  different  channels  of  Rock 
River  at  this  point,  on  through  Milan  and 
Turkey  Hollow  and  Edgington,  —  and  I  began 
to  change. 

That  city  steadiness  left  me;  the  old  life  of 
the  fields  came  back  to  me  and  I  was  a  colt 
again.  I  had  forgotten  all  of  my  civilization; 
the    harness    galled,    irritated,    fretted    me;      I 


48  DON 

didn't  like  the  buggy  shafts;  I  didn't  like  the 
lines,  and  the  whip  that  my  master  had  to  use 
(I  don't  blame  him  now)  made  me  cross.  I 
finally  became  almost  unmanageable.  As  we 
drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  our  destination,  I 
became  harder  and  harder  to  drive;  and  really 
the  last  mile  I  was  entirely  beside  myself.  We 
finally  came  up  to  Mr.  Bradford's,  the  gentle- 
man whom  we  were  going  to  visit,  with  my  mas- 
ter leading  me;  he  positively  couldn't  drive  me. 
I  heard  him  say  to  Mr.  Bradford: 

"I  started  with  a  nice,  steady  horse;  I  have 
arrived  with  a  wild,  fiery  war  horse.  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  with  him." 

They  unhitched  me  and  put  me  into  the  barn, 
and  that  spirit  of  the  wild  colt  stayed  with  me. 
They  tried  to  harness  me  on  Sunday,  but  no- 
body could  drive  me.  I  know  my  master  was 
very  much  distressed  about  me;  I  believe  he 
thought  I  was  ruined,  and  that  he  would  have 
sold  me  pretty  cheap  that  day. 

I  hate  to  finish  this  Httle  story;  but,  as  I 
started  it,  I  am  going  to  tell  the  truth.  It 
came  Monday  morning  and  the  doctor  had  to 


GYP  49 

return  to  his  work.  With  the  help  of  two  men 
they  tried  hitching  me  up  and  he  thought  he 
could  drive  me  home;  but  he  could  not.  Mr. 
Bradford  said  I  was  not  safe,  so  I  was  left  in 
the  barn  in  disgrace,  and  Mr.  Bradford  had  one 
of  his  horses  harnessed  and  my  master  and  mis- 
tress were  taken  to  the  station  and  went  home 
by  train. 

The  next  day  I  was  led  into  Rock  Island 
crestfallen,  a  sadder  and  wiser  horse.  The  old 
scenes  at  the  stable  and  the  streets  and  the 
business  soon  tamed  me  down,  and  I  was  again 
the  safe  horse. 

XII 
GYP 

HAVE  told  you  of  some  of  my  earlier  expe- 
riences with  men;  I  want  to  talk  with  you 
a  little  more  about  my  experiences  with, 
and  observation  of,  animals.  When  I  say  ani- 
mals I  do  not  mean  horses;  men  call  horses 
animals,  but  they  do  not  seem  like  animals 
to   me;    they  seem  more  like  folks,  —  not  just 


so  DON 

like  men,  but  nearer  to  men  than  all  the 
other  animals  which  I  have  met.  So  when  I 
speak  of  animals  I  mean  dogs  and  cows  and 
cats. 

The  first  animal  that  I  remember  anything 
particular  about  —  that  is,  anything  of  special 
interest  in  connection  with  my  life  —  was  Gyp. 
He  was  a  beautiful  white-and-liver  dog,  rather 
large;  I  think  I  heard  my  master  say  once  that 
he  weighed  fifty  pounds.  He  was  what  is 
known  as  an  English  setter,  I  believe.  I  de- 
scribe Gyp  somewhat  definitely,  because  later 
in  my  life  I  had  a  great  many  experiences  with 
dogs,  and  especially  setters,  but  another  breed 
of  setters  than  the  English. 

I  remember  Gyp  almost  the  first  of  my  going 
to  the  doctor's  home.  Gyp  was  always  there. 
Gyp  always  went  out  with  us  when  we  went  to 
drive.  Gyp  was  always  with  the  doctor  when 
he  made  his  calls;  and,  from  the  very  start. 
Gyp  seemed  to  be  part  and  parcel  of  our  daily 
routine. 

But,  as  strange  as  it  may  seem.  Gyp  did  not 
belong  to  us.     I  say  "us";    I  mean  our  family. 


GYP  SI 

He  belonged  to  a  gentleman  who  lived  in  Rock 
Island  by  the  name  of  Hearst,  Hon.  E.  W. 
Hearst.  I  have  heard  my  master  tell  how  he 
happened  to  become  attached  to  us.  My  mas- 
ter and  Mr.  Hearst  formerly  had  an  office  to- 
gether, and  Gyp  would  go  to  the  office  with  his 
master.  In  that  way  he  got  acquainted  with 
the  doctor  and  liked  him  better  perhaps  than 
his  own  master,  because  the  doctor  was  con- 
stantly going  out,  here  and  there,  and  Gyp,  like 
all  other  dogs,  liked  to  be  doing  something; 
hence  Gyp  was  usually  with  us. 

I  can  remember  that  he  would  as  a  rule  be 
at  the  house  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  and 
would  go  into  the  stable  as  soon  as  it  was 
opened.  He  would  always  come  and  sniff"  at 
my  heels  as  much  as  to  say:  "Good  morning, 
Don;  how  are  you.?  Did  you  have  a  pleasant 
night.?" 

He  would  frisk  about,  rush  to  the  house  and 
back  again  dozens  of  times,  doing  all  in  his 
power  to  help  us  get  started  on  our  daily  rounds. 
He  would  stay  with  us  all  day  long  and  would 
not  go  home  until  I  had  been  put  into  the  barn 


52  DON 

and  the  door  closed  for  the  night.  Then  I 
have  heard  my  master  say  he  would  go  to  the 
house,  ask  to  be  let  in  and  sort  of  finish  up  the 
day  properly.  When  the  doctor  would  open 
the  door  and  say:  "Now  Gyp,  better  go  home; 
it's  all  over  for  today,"  Gyp  would  go  slowly 
out,  turn  on  the  steps  and  look  back  at  him 
inquiringly.  I  have  heard  Master  say  Gyp's 
eyes  were  so  intelligent,  he  could  understand 
what  Gyp  was  saying  by  looking  at  them. 

"Yes,"  Master  would  say,  "I'm  honest  with 
you,  Gyp;  we're  not  going  to  do  any  more 
today.     Good  night." 

Then  sometimes  he  would  go  home,  but  Mas- 
ter said  he  often  stayed  about  until  the  lights 
went  out,  when  he  would  start  for  home,  a  mile 
distant.  Mr.  Hearst  said  Gyp  would  scratch 
on  the  door  to  get  in,  and  when  he  had  eaten 
his  supper,  would  go  down  cellar  to  sleep. 

I  remember  hearing  Mr.  Hearst  say  one  day 
as  we  stood  before  the  office  door:  "Gyp,  you 
rascal!  You  work  for  the  doctor  all  the  time, 
but  you  sleep  and  feed  on  me.  It's  all  right, 
though.      If  you   get   more   fun   that   way   I'm 


GYP  S3 

satisfied.  I  believe  in  getting  all  the  fun  out  of 
life  that  we  can  if  we  don't  do  any  harm." 

As  Gyp  and  I  got  better  acquainted,  he  used 
to  come  into  my  stable  and  lie  down  in  front 
of  me.  At  first  he  was  afraid  that  I  would  bite 
him,  but  he  soon  knew  better  although  I  would 
often  open  my  mouth  and  take  his  whole  neck 
in  as  if  I  were  going  to  bite  him,  —  of  course 
I  could  not  bite  a  dog  that  trusted  me. 

Before  very  long,  I  think  after  he  had  been 
with  me  almost  a  year,  someone  gave  the  doc- 
tor a  beautiful  Gordon  setter  pup.  I  remember 
the  first  day  she  came  to  the  house.  Gyp  didn't 
like  it.  He  sulked  all  day,  went  home  early 
and  didn't  come  back  the  next  day  until  noon. 
He  didn't  seem  very  happy  for  several  days, 
but  after  a  while  he  got  used  to  the  puppy  and 
seemed  to  like  her  or  to  look  upon  her  as  a 
necessary  evil.  He  went  back  to  his  daily 
rounds,  coming  early  in  the  morning  and  stay- 
ing until  everything  was  closed  up  at  night. 
He  would  even  sometimes  condescend  to  run 
and  play  with  the  puppy. 

My  mistress  named  the  puppy  after  she  had 


54  DON 

been  there  about  a  week.  Someone  asked  my 
master  one  day  what  her  name  was  and  he 
said  he  was  going  to  think  it  over  and  get  a 
good  one.  The  next  day  Mistress  came  out 
and  patted  the  puppy  and  said: 

"Hello,  Bess.  Your  name  is  to  be  Bess  for 
short;  Elizabeth  is  your  full  name,  but  we  shall 
call  you  Bess."  And  Bess  she  was  for  more  than 
twelve  years  of  our  happy,  close  friendship. 

But  I  am  telling  you  now  about  Gyp.  Gyp 
stayed  on  until  Bess  was  a  large,  full-grown, 
fine  dog.  Bess  was  a  Gordon,  as  I  have  said 
before;  —  I  have  heard  my  master  say,  a  per- 
fect Gordon,  a  prize  Gordon.  You  know  the 
Gordon  is  liver-and-black  with  a  fine  white  Hne 
in  the  breast.  I  think  my  master  was  rather 
more  proud  of  Bess  than  he  was  of  me:  I  have 
heard  him  say  that  she  was  a  thorough-bred; 
I  never  heard  him  say  that  about  me,  but  I 
was  never  jealous  of  her  because  she  was  so 
small,  beautiful  and  lovable. 

Still,  all  of  this  time  Gyp  was  my  favorite. 
He  was  always  with  me  all  day.  I  don't  think 
I   ever   went   out   to   drive   with    the   doctor   a 


GYP    TAKES    PART  55 

single  day  that  Gyp  was  not  along,  running 
ahead,  chasing  the  sparrows,  chasing  chickens, 
having  a  good  time,  —  happy,  always  laughing. 
I  like  to  see  a  dog  laugh  and  full  of  fun. 


XIII 

GYP    TAKES  PART  IN   THE  EASTER 
SERVICE 

YP  always  had  a  sense  of  humor  and  has 
laughed  in  his  quiet  dog  way  many 
times  about  our  various  escapades  to- 
gether. One  of  the  most  amusing  of  these  was 
Gyp's  attendance  at  Easter  service  with  Master 
and  Mistress.  Part  of  this  I  know  of  my  own 
knowledge;  the  rest  Gyp  and  Master  have  told 
many  times. 

My  master  and  mistress  one  Easter  morning 
drove  me  to  the  ferry  which  they  took  to  go  to 
Davenport.  As  Gyp  always  followed  me  when- 
ever I  went  out,  of  course  Master  thought  that 
he  would  stay  with  me  and  go  back  when  I 
went.     The  man   met  us  at  the  ferry.     Master 


56  DON 

and  Mistress  got  out  of  the  buggy  and  went 
into  the  ferry,  and  Gyp  started  to  follow  them. 
Master  told  him  to  go  back  and  stay  with  me. 

Gyp  seemed  to  feel  that  it  was  all  over  so 
far  as  I  was  concerned,  that  I  was  going  back 
to  the  barn  and  there  would  be  no  fun  with  me, 
that  the  fun  was  ahead  with  Master;  so  he  in- 
sisted on  going  to  the  ferry,  and,  in  spite  of  all 
my  master  could  do,  he  went.  I  can  see  Gyp 
now  as  he  sneaked  aboard  the  ferry  at  the  rear 
entrance.  He  told  me  afterwards  he  skulked 
into  the  boiler  room  where  my  master  could  not 
find  him,  and  when  the  boat  had  pulled  out 
into  the  stream  he  appeared  on  the  scene  cheer- 
ful and  happy,  wagging  his  tail  and  with  (so 
my  master  said)  a  broad  grin  on  his  face. 

I  have  heard  Master  tell  how  they  tried  to 
get  rid  of  him:  when  they  got  to  Davenport, 
he  took  Gyp  up  into  the  cabin  after  all  the 
passengers  were  out  and  shut  him  in  there,  and 
then  he  and  Mistress  hurried  off  the  boat  and 
up  the  street.  Gyp,  of  course,  stayed  in  the 
cabin  only  until  some  passengers,  who  were  to 
return  with  the  boat,  opened  the  door,  when  he 


GYP    TAKES    PART  57 

scurried  off  the  boat  and  up  the  hill;  and,  in 
almost  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  he  was 
with  my  master.  They  hadn't  time  to  go  back 
with  him  and  they  didn't  know  what  to  do  with 
him,  so  they  let  him  follow  on,  thinking  they 
could  arrest  him  at  the  church. 

They  walked  up  the  hill  to  the  cathedral, 
as  they  were  going  to  attend  Easter  service 
in  the  Davenport  cathedral  of  the  Episcopal 
Church.  Gyp  was  having  a  glorious  time,  run- 
ning everywhere,  chasing  cats  or  anything  that 
came  his  way.  When  they  got  to  the  church, 
my  master  said  to  one  of  the  ushers  that  came 
to  the  door:  "Here  is  a  dog  following  me;  he 
is  not  my  dog  (you  know  Gyp  did  not  really 
belong  to  my  master),  and  I  don't  want  him  to 
go  into  the  church  with  me." 

The  usher  with  smiling  assurance  accepted 
the  charge:  "I  will  take  care  of  him;  you  leave 
him  to  me,"  and  he  took  Gyp  by  the  collar, 
carried  him  to  the  outer  door  and  tried  to  make 
him  go  away.  But  Gyp  only  waited  until  his 
back  was  turned  and  ran  back  to  the  church. 
The  man  seized  him  again  by  the  collar  and  put 


S8  DON 

him  into  a  little  closet  where  the  janitor  kept 
brushes  and  brooms  and  other  things  in  rela- 
tion to  the  church  cleaning.  I  don't  know 
how  long  Gyp  stayed  there,  but  not  long,  as 
someone  who  wanted  something  there  opened 
the  door,  and  Gyp  bounded  out;  and,  just  as 
the  service  was  beginning,  he  marched  down  the 
aisle,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left, 
until  he  got  to  the  chancel-rail.  He  walked 
up  into  the  pulpit,  and  as  he  saw  no  one  there 
that  he  recognized  walked  back  again. 

Up  this  aisle  and  down  that  went  Gyp  look- 
ing for  someone  that  he  knew.  Master  sat 
way  back  in  the  church,  crouched  down  in  the 
pew  as  far  out  of  sight  as  he  could  get,  thinking 
how  much  he  would  give  if  he  were  at  home. 
Gyp  kept  right  on  with  his  search  until  he 
located  the  pew;  then,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  he 
walked  in  and  threw  himself  on  the  floor  in 
front  of  my  master  and  mistress,  much  to  their 
chagrin  and  discomfiture. 

My  master  had  tried  ever  since  he  reached 
the  church  to  appear  as  if  he  did  not  know  Gyp; 
but,  when  Gyp  walked  into  the  pew  and  threw 


GYP'S    LAST    TRIP  59 

himself  down  almost  on  his  feet,  my  master 
said  he  looked  so  guilty,  that  anyone  who  saw 
him  must  have  known  the  dog  really  belonged 
to  him. 

Gyp  never  moved  during  the  entire  service; 
but,  just  as  the  rector  was  pronouncing  the 
benediction,  something  disturbed  Gyp's  sleep 
and  he  gave  a  short,  sharp  bark,  bringing  the 
attention  of  the  entire  congregation  to  the  pew 
and  to  my  master  and  mistress. 

XIV 
GYP'S  LAST   TRIP 

AM  tempted  to  end  here  my  story  about 
Gyp;  it  makes  me  sad  to  finish,  but  perhaps 
by  this  time  you  have  become  interested 
in  him  and  would  like  to  know  about  him.  He 
continued  to  come  to  us,  just  as  he  had  before, 
all  of  the  second  year  until  about  Christmas 
time;  I  know  it  was  very  cold,  and  it  was  in 
December.  One  day  we  were  very  busy;  we 
had  made  a  half  dozen  calls  and  had  on  hand 
from  the  day  before  a  lot  more  to  make.     Gyp 


6o  DON 

was  with  us  running  around  as  usual.  I  re- 
member how  happy  he  was.  My  master  was 
up  on  Seventh  Avenue  making  a  call  at  Mr. 
Waters',  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  noticed  Gyp 
acting  strangely.  He  was  running  round  in  a 
circle  and  kept  falling  down,  his  legs  all  stiflF. 
Once  he  tried  to  get  into  the  buggy.  Someone 
across  the  street  (Mrs.  Shroeder  whom  we  were 
going  to  visit  next)  looked  out  of  the  window 
and  called: 

"Hello,  Gyp!  What's  the  matter.?" 
Gyp  paid  no  attention  but  kept  running 
round,  and  Mrs.  Shroeder  hurried  across  the 
street  and  rang  the  door-bell.  My  .master 
came  to  see  what  was  the  trouble  and  she  told 
him  Gyp  was  sick.  He  rushed  out  appearing 
much  frightened,  and  tried  to  take  hold  of  him, 
but  Gyp  jumped  up  and  started  to  go  in  a 
circle  again.  He  ran  up  on  the  porch  and 
dropped,  and  I  heard  my  master  say,  "He  is 
dead!"  For  the  second  time  I  saw  tears  in 
Master's  eyes  as  he  bent  over  him  exclaiming 
in  grieved  tones:  "Poor  Gyp!  Somebody  has 
poisoned  you." 


GYP'S    LAST    TRIP  6i 

He  took  Gyp  in  his  arms,  put  him  into  the 
buggy  and  carried  him  home,  and  we  made  no 
more  calls  that  forenoon.  Gyp  was  carried 
into  the  stable;  Mistress  came  out  and  other 
members  of  the  family,  and  everybody  was  so 
sorry.  I  felt  very  badly  myself.  I  don't  think 
I  fully  understood  then  that  I  should  never  see 
Gyp  running  around  any  more. 

I  say  we  didn't  make  any  more  calls  that 
forenoon:  I  know  we  had  a  lot  more  to  make 
because  we  worked  unusually  hard  all  the  after- 
noon, the  doctor  missed  his  office  hours,  and 
didn't  get  through  until  way  into  the  night. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Stevens  prepared  a  big 
box,  and  I  saw  Gyp  lying  in  it,  wrapped  in  what 
I  have  since  learned  to  know  was  the  American 
flag.  He  looked  so  natural.  I  didn't  under- 
stand it  at  all.  Then  I  saw  them  nail  the  cover 
on  and  they  took  him  out  into  the  yard  under 
a  large  oak  tree,  put  him  into  a  big  hole  in  the 
ground  and  covered  him  up.  I  knew  both 
Master  and  Mistress  and  all  the  members  of 
the  family  shed  tears  when  poor  Gyp  was  laid 
away  in  his  last  resting  place. 


62  DON 

XV 
BLACK  HAWK'S   WATCH   TOWER 

HAVE  written  largely  thus  far  of  business. 
I  presume  that  is  proper.  Of  course  a 
horse's  life,  that  is,  a  doctor's  horse's  life,  is 
mostly  business;  and  yet  I  have  had  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure  connected  with  business.  In 
fact  we  have  usually,  I  think,  tried  to  make 
pleasure  out  of  business.  Although  perhaps 
the  major  portion  of  my  work  has  been  strictly 
business,  many  times  long  drives  were  taken 
purely  for  pleasure. 

There  is  one  spot  particularly  associated  in 
my  mind  with  pleasure,  and  that  is  Black 
Hawk's  Watch  Tower  on  Rock  River  about 
three  miles  from  Rock  Island.  How  many, 
many  times  we  drove  out  there  in  the  twelve 
years  that  I  lived  with  my  master  in  Rock 
Island,  sometimes  by  the  Milan  Road,  some- 
times by  the  Chippianock,  and  then  again  over 
the  Bluff  and  by  the  Tower.  In  all  these  ways 
I  soon  learned  to  recognize,  even  at  the  start, 
where  we  were  going,  and  was  always  pleased 


BLACK  HAWK'S  WATCH  TOWER    63 

when  I  was  sure  that  we  were  headed  for  Black 
Hawk. 

When  I  first  went  out  there  with  my  people, 
there  were  no  buildings  on  the  Tower  itself, 
just  that  beautiful  open  grassy  spot,  cool  and 
quiet;  and  then  was  the  time  when  they  used 
to  drive  right  up  to  the  edge  of  the  Tower 
where  we  horses,  as  well  as  the  people,  had  full 
advantage  of  the  view. 

I  can  remember  the  first  time  I  ever  went 
there.  I  was  so  high  up,  such  an  extent  of 
country  was  spread  out  before  me,  and  Rock 
River  at  my  very  feet  such  a  great  distance 
below,  that  I  was  frightened.  I  had  always 
lived  in  a  level  country,  and  had  never  before 
been  up  on  high  hills  where  I  could  look  off; 
but  the  next  time  I  went  I  didn't  mind  and  I 
just  enjoyed  the  view. 

I  wonder  if  people  realize  how  much  horses 
really  enjoy  beautiful  views.  I  could  see  horses 
grazing  way  off  on  the  Island,  and  in  another 
direction  cows.  In  another  place  I  well  re- 
member a  lot  of  tents  where  people  were  living, 
and  far  up  Rock  River  I  could  see  the  Moline 


64  DON 

Bridge  which  crosses  the  river  at  that  point 
as  you  go  to  Coal  Valley.  Right  at  my  feet 
almost  were  the  five  bridges  v/hich  span  as 
many  sections  of  Rock  River  as  it  passes  be- 
tween Black  Hawk's  Watch  Tower  and  the  town 
of  Milan;  and  way  to  my  right,  as  far  as  we 
could  see,  was  the  broad  Mississippi,  flowing 
onward  its  nearly  four  thousand  miles  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico. 

In  a  year  or  two  all  of  this  had  changed.  A 
house  had  been  built  on  the  Tower;  a  little 
stuffy,  noisy,  impertinent  railroad  had  been 
built  from  Rock  Island  to  the  Tower,  and  every 
half  hour  that  wheezy,  snorting  httle  engine 
came  coughing  up  the  hill  with  its  half  a  hun- 
dred passengers.  All  had  changed  and  there 
was  not  much  more  pleasure  for  the  horse,  as 
he  was  always  left  in  the  background  down 
behind  the  Tower,  so  that  he  could  never  get 
that   beautiful   view. 

Even  then  I  enjoyed  going  to  the  Tower, 
partly  because  I  knew  my  master  enjoyed  it 
so  much,  and  too  I  used  to  meet  other  horses 
there   and   I   had   the  good   drive   and    the  cool 


BLACK  HAWK'S  WATCH  TOWER    65 

shade  when  I  got  up  on  the  Tower.  So  it  was 
all  pleasant,'  and  all  of  my  memories  in  con- 
nection with  Black  Hawk's  Watch  Tower  are 
pleasant.  I  soon  got  used  to  the  railroad  and 
was  not  afraid  of  its  little  dummy  engine.  I 
was  no  longer  afraid  when  I  stood  on  the  bridge 
over  the  tracks  as  the  engine  puffed  and  labored 
up  the  steep  hill.  How  many  times  I  have  seen 
it  stuck  half  way  up.  In  those  days  I  did  not 
have  much  respect  for  street  cars,  as  they  went 
very  slowly  and  were  always  getting  stuck. 

That,  too,  changed;  and,  before  I  left  Rock 
Island,  there  was  a  well  equipped  electrical  road 
from  Rock  Island  to  Black  Hawk's  Watch 
Tower;  instead  of  half  a  hundred  people  going 
at  a  time,  every  day  —  and  especially  holidays, 
Saturdays  and  Sundays  —  thousands  and  thou- 
sands went  out  there  from  the  three  cities.  It 
became  a  great  pleasure  resort.  A  large  hotel 
was  built,  and  band  concerts,  fireworks,  to- 
boggan slides  and  surf  slides,  and  the  things 
that  go  to  make  up  a  summer  pleasure  resort, 
with  its  out-of-door  theater  and  what  not,  were 
added. 


(^  DON 

So  now  all  that  is  left  of  beautiful  Black 
Hawk  to  me  is  a  memory;  yet  I  have  heard 
my  master  say  that  Black  Hawk  to  him  is  more 
beautiful  now  than  ever  before,  because  in  the 
early  days  where  only  an  occasional  person  saw 
and  enjoyed  it,  now  tens  of  thousands  of  people 
visit  and  enjoy  its  beauties  and  good  air  — 
people  who  need  it  and  who  without  it  would 
not  get  those  advantages. 

The  sport  now  so  popularly  known  all  over 
the  world  as  "Shoot  the  Chutes"  was  invented, 
anid  first  put  into  operation,  by  the  first  keeper 
of  Black  Hawk's  Watch  Tower,  and  the  surf 
shde  referred  to  in  this  chapter  was  the  first 
"Shoot  the  Chutes"  ever  built  anywhere  in 
the  world.  Its  inventor  was  Mr.  John  P. 
Newburg,  a  native  of  Sweden.  He  was  an 
uncle  of  Oscar  to  whom  I  have  referred  as  one 
of  the  men  who  used  to  take  care  of  me. 

At  first  thought  one  might  suppose  that  Black 
Hawk's  Watch  Tower  was  built  up  from  the 
ground,  of  either  stone  or  wood;  but  of  course 
such  is  not  the  case.  It  is  a  high  bluff  or  hill 
near,   as  I  have  said,  the  five  bridges  and  the 


BLACK  HAWK'S  WATCH  TOWER    67 

Islands  that  divide  the  Rock  River  into  as 
many  channels.  It  goes  up  directly  from  the 
north  shore  of  the  north  channel  of  the  river, 
and  overlooks  all  of  the  country  for  many 
miles  around.  It  is  one  of  the  most  conspicuous 
spots  anywhere  in  that  region  of  the  country, 
and  is  called  Black  Hawk's  Watch  Tower, 
because  it  was  literally  that  great  Indian  chief's 
watch  tower. 

From  there,  because  of  its  unique  situation, 
height  and  prominence,  the  old  chief  (Black 
Hawk)  used  to  view  the  country,  lay  out  his 
campaigns,  and  spend  a  great  deal  of  his  time. 
From  this  point  many  a  signal  fire  has  sent  up 
its  vivid  flames  and  its  smoke  to  notify  the 
braves  in  all  the  country  round;  and  it  is  from 
this  point  that  he  read  back  from  his  warriors 
their  signs  and  signals.  Thus  the  unlettered 
red  man  in  his  wilderness  fastnesses  was  carry- 
ing out  a  system  of  signals  older  than  history, 
which  is  the  foundation  of  our  wonderful  sig- 
nal service  of  the  present  day. 

It  was  near  this  place  that  Black  Hawk  was 
finally    captured    after    waging    war    upon    the 


68  DON 

white  settlers  of  that  section  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley  for  many  years.  In  Spencer  Square, 
Rock  Island,  there  is  a  statue  of  Black  Hawk 
of  heroic  size,  carved  in  solid  granite. 

I  have  heard  my  master  say  that  Black  Hawk 
was  a  truly  wonderful  character  in  history,  a 
man  of  unusual  mental  capacity,  a  great  gen- 
eral and  diplomat;  and,  as  we  look  back  over 
his  life's  history  and  work,  we  cannot  help 
feehng  that  he  and  his  red  brethren  were  in  the 
right,  and  that  in  their  extermination  Might 
and  not   Right  prevailed. 


XVI 
SEARS  PARK 

NE  of  the  pleasantest  memories  that  I 
have  of  Rock  Island  is  of  Sears  Park, 
though  in  reality  there  never  was  such 
a  thing  as  Sears  Park.  It  was  a  lot  of  good 
ideas  and  intentions  and  purposes  of  a  party 
of  gentlemen  of  Rock  Island.  My  master  was 
one  of  the  leading  ones.     They  held  an  option 


SEARS    PARK  69 

on  that  beautiful  tract  of  land  between  the 
main  Milan  Road  and  the  river,  and  the  section 
known  as  Black  Hawk's  Watch  Tower  and  the 
road  leading  up  to  it  —  a  tract  of  thirty  or 
forty  acres  of  land  which  this  party  of  men 
intended  to  buy  and  to  convert  into  a  municipal 
park,  using  the  great  and  valuable  water  power 
as  a  source  of  power  for  pumping.  A  mammoth 
reservoir  was  included  in  their  plans,  and  this 
power  was  to  be  used  to  force  water  up  into 
the  reservoir  to  furnish  it  to  all  of  the  country 
about,  including  the  city  of  Rock  Island. 

I  have  said  enough  perhaps  of  their  inten- 
tions. They  interested  me  very  little,  but  for 
the  year  or  two  that  this  plan  was  under  con- 
sideration and  the  land  was  under  option,  we 
had  free  access  to  it;  and  my  master  and  family 
used  often  to  take  me  and  go  out  there;  and 
there  more  than  anywhere  else  I  came  nearest 
to  nature,  to  actual  grazing,  rolling  on  the 
ground  and  resting  in  the  refreshing  shade  of 
the   beautiful   trees. 

During  the  summer  for  two  or  three  years 
we  went  out  there  as  often  as  once  a  week  and 


70  DON 

would  stay  an  hour  or  so,  sometimes  two  or 
three.  I  think  I  enjoyed  Sears  Park  even  more 
than  I  did  Black  Hawk;  because  Black  Hawk 
was  so  soon  converted  into  a  great  public  rec- 
reation ground,  and  Sears  Park,  while  it  never 
materialized  on  the  plans  that  its  promoters 
hoped  it  would,  always  remained  —  at  least 
as  long  as  we  lived  in  Rock  Island — open 
country. 

I  think  we  never  went  out  there  unless  Bess 
went  along.  How  much  she  enjoyed  running 
about  the  open  fields  and  pastures  of  this  tract. 
It  was  on  one  of  these  trips  (I  do  not  remember 
which  one  or  in  just  what  year,  but  I  know  it 
was  one  day  when  we  were  going  out  to  Sears 
Park),  that  Bess  and  her  two  puppies,  Union 
and  Argus,  went  with  us.  Bess  always,  when 
the  puppies  were  along,  was  more  unmanage- 
able than  at  any  other  time;  although  the 
word  "unmanageable"  would  hardly  apply  to 
her,  as  she  was  one  of  the  mildest  mannered 
and  most  easily  managed  dogs  I  ever  saw;  but 
she,  like  myself,  felt  full  of  life  as  we  went  into 
the    country,    and    she    and    the    puppies    were 


SEARS    PARK  71 

frisking  about,  the  latter  getting  into  all  kinds 
of  mischief. 

The  puppies  were  quite  large  dogs,  three- 
fourths  grown,  named  Union  and  Argus  after 
the  two  daily  papers.  Republican  and  Demo- 
cratic, in  Rock  Island.  My  master  in  those 
days  was  an  out-and-out  Republican,  but  he 
declares  that  the  following  incident  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  politics.  You  will  notice, 
however,  that  Argus  was  the  Democratic  name- 
sake. 

My  master  always  hated  to  have  the  dogs 
chase  the  chickens.  I  think  that  was  the  only 
thing  he  ever  whipped  them  for,  and  I  believe 
that  was  necessary;  but  it  seemed  as  if  that  day 
nothing  would  keep  Argus  from  chasing  chick- 
ens. My  master  had  whipped  him  twice  rea- 
sonably hard;  but  the  third  time  he  had  caught 
a  chicken,  one  that  belonged  to  Mr.  William 
Sears,  and  had  pulled  half  the  feathers  out  and 
hurt  the  chicken  very  much.  My  master  got 
out,  took  Argus  by  the  collar,  and  with  a  whip 
that  he  carried  for  that  purpose,  began  to  whip 
him,     and     he    whipped     him     pretty    hard.     I 


72  DON 

think  the  dog  needed  to  be  punished,  but  I 
think  my  master  lost  his  patience  a  little  and 
whipped  Argus  very  hard.     He  howled  piteously. 

Bess  stood  looking  on,  as  she  always  did, 
rather  approvingly,  knowing  that  if  the  puppies 
ever  became  good  useful  dogs  they  had  to  be 
trained;  but  this  time  I  could  see  another  look 
in  her  eyes,  and  the  more  my  master  whipped 
Argus,  the  more  that  look,  one  of  disapproval, 
grew  in  Bess's  countenance.  All  at  once  she 
stepped  right  up  to  Master,  showed  her  teeth 
and  growled  as  much  as  to  say,  "You  have  gone 
far  enough!"  Master  let  go  of  Argus  and  got 
into  the  buggy  and  I  heard  him  say:  "Well, 
Bess  has  taught  me  a  lesson:  — a  great  grown 
man  beating  a  little  half-grown  dog  like  that!" 

But  I  think  Argus  never  chased  chickens  after 
that,  and  I  never  remember  my  master  whip- 
ping either  of  the  dogs  again.  It  had  been  a 
long  time  since  he  had  whipped  Bess;  she  was 
more  easily  trained  than  most  dogs.  I  have 
heard  Master  say  that  in  all  of  the  twelve  years 
Bess  lived  with  him  this  was  the  first  and  only 
time  that  she  ever  openly  disapproved  of  any- 


'^ 


SEARS    PARK  73 

thing  he  did,  and  that  he  approved  of  this  in 
her  more  than  anything  she  ever  did,  although 
she  was  constantly  doing  nice,  wonderfully 
wise  things  for  a  dog,  I  think  you  can  learn 
a  lot  of  things  from  a  dog.  Bess  was  always 
so  cheerful,  good-natured  and  happy,  always 
looking  on  the  bright  side;  I  have  heard  Master 
say  a  great  many  times  that  she  kept  him  from 
having  the  blues.  I  think  she  was  good  for  me 
too. 

I  want  to  tell  one  more  experience  in  connec- 
tion with  Sears  Park.  It  may  be  of  interest  to 
some  people  to  know  that  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley  they  not  only  have  more  severe  wind 
storms,  hurricanes  and  cyclones  than  they  do 
in  the  East,  but  they  also  have  much  more 
severe  thunder  showers. 

It  seems  to  me,  if  I  were  to  live  a  hundred 
years,  I  should  never  forget  a  thunder  shower 
that  we  were  out  in  one  day  on  our  way  to 
Sears  Park.  We  had  just  gotten  to  the  point 
where  we  turn  from  Milan  Road  to  go  up  into 
the  park  when  a  storm  that  had  been  brewing 
most  of  the  time  since  we  left  home  burst  upon 


74  DON 

us  with  all  the  fury  that  a  tempest  of  that  char- 
acter can  in  the  Mississippi  Valley.  Oh,  how 
close  the  lightning  was!  And  what  terrible 
peals  of  thunder! 

I  was  frightened  and  I  know  that  my  master 
and  mistress  were.  Just  before  the  storm  burst, 
my  master  had  gotten  out  and  put  on  the  cur- 
tains, and  had  done  the  carriage  up  as  tightly 
as  he  could;  I  could  see  (I  wore  no  bhnders  and 
could  always  see  behind  me)  just  how  snug  and 
close  they  were;  and  yet  I  heard  Master  say, 
*'We  are  getting  wet!" 

I  was  terrified  by  the  awful  lightning  and  the 
frightful  thunder  crashes,  and  the  great  down- 
pour of  water.  It  literally  came  down  in  sheets, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  I  should  be  drowned  stand- 
ing right  there.  In  a  very  few  minutes  the 
water  was  half  way  to  my  knees.  My  master 
kept  pulling  gently  on  the  lines  and  saying, 
"Whoa,  Don;  don't  be  afraid.  It's  all  right; 
it  will  soon  stop."  That  encouraged  me  and  I 
stood  as  still  as  I  could.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
storm  had  passed  and  the  sun  came  out,  and  we 
resumed   our  journey   up   the   hill   and   into  the 


HUNDRED   TIMES   AT   SCHOOL    75 

park  where  everything  had  been  so  freshly 
washed  and  looked  as  bright  and  clean  as 
spring.  We  stayed  there  that  evening  until 
the  sun  went  down  away  over  the  river  in 
Iowa.  It  was  a  gorgeous  sight  —  a  glorious 
summer  sunset  beyond  the  Mississippi! 


XVII 

A   HUNDRED    TIMES  AT  SCHOOL 

F  course  I  didn't  really  attend  the 
school;  I  have  looked  into  school- 
houses  a  great  many  times,  but  was 
never  inside  of  a  schoolroom.  One  winter, 
though,  I  went  to  a  schoolhouse  in  the  morning 
and  back  again  at  night  one  hundred  times. 
It  was  this  way:  One  of  the  teachers,  a  patient 
and  friend  of  ours,  fell  and  sprained  her  ankle 
badly.  She  rested  a  day  or  two  and  started 
out  again  to  attend  to  her  duties;  but  walking 
to  and  from  the  schoolhouse  injured  her  ankle 
very  much,  and  in  less  than  a  week  she  could 
not  take  a  step  and  was  obliged  to  stay  at  home 


76  DON 

again  to  let  the  ankle  rest  and  heal.  At  the 
end  of  a  week  she  could  only  take  a  step  or 
two;  but  she  felt  that  she  must  not  stay  longer 
out  of  school,  and  of  course  she  could  not  afford 
to  hire  a  carriage  every  day.  So  we  arranged 
to  carry  her  to  the  schoolhouse  in  the  morning 
and  go  for  her  at  night,  and  we  did.  Some- 
times my  master  drove  me;  sometimes  it  would 
be  my  mistress,  and  quite  often  the  man. 
Usually  at  night  my  master  would  drive  around 
from  some  of  his  calls  and  take  the  lady  home. 
In  this  way  she  kept  up  her  work  for  over  a 
hundred  days,  not  missing  a  day;  neither  was 
she  injuring  her  ankle,  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time  it  had  fully  recovered. 

My  master  has  always  been  very  fond  of 
children  and  he  used  to  talk  to  the  teacher  a 
great  deal  about  her  pupils.  She  was  very 
bright,  never  failed  to  see  the  funny  side  of 
every  experience.  She  related  many  amusing 
incidents.  I  remember  hearing  her  tell  of  a 
little  girl  named  Allie,  who,  when  asked  if  she 
were  the  oldest  in  the  family,  replied  seriously, 
"No,  ma'am;   my  grandmother  is." 


HUNDRED  TIMES  AT  SCHOOL      'tj 

We  all  enjoyed  those  drives  and  were  sorry 
when  they  were  over.  I  guess  the  teacher  en- 
joyed them  too,  for  she  seemed  so  pleased  one 
Saturday  when  the  doctor  called  for  her  to 
drive  with  us.  We  were  on  our  way  to  Moline 
over  the  Seventh  Avenue  road  up  to  Edgewood 
Park.  When  we  came  to  the  baseball  grounds, 
then  located  on  the  Brooks  Estate  on  the  left 
of  Seventh  Avenue,  an  evidently  fierce  game  of 
baseball  was  going  on  inside.  The  place  seemed 
to  be  crowded  and  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
hurrahing.  Just  as  we  got  to  the  gate  the  band 
was  playing. 

On  the  outside  there  were  perhaps  two  dozen 
urchins  from  seven  to  fifteen  years  of  age. 
Some  of  them  came  from  our  teacher's  school, 
but  they  were  so  excited  they  didn't  see  her  or 
pay  any  attention  to  us  at  first;  and  we 
watched  them  until  we  were,  all  three  of  us, 
almost  as  anxious  as  they.  Some  of  them  were 
looking  through  the  cracks;  some  had  cut  holes 
with  their  knives  in  the  fence;  some  had 
climbed  on  the  fence  and  were  looking  over,  and 
others   had   no   place  at   all   from   which   to  see 


78  DON 

the  game.  My  master  pulled  me  up  to  the 
entrance  and  asked  the  gate-keeper  how  many 
were  inside: 

"Everything  is  packed  full;  there  isn't  a 
seat";   said  the  man. 

"Isn't  there  standing  room?"  asked  my 
master. 

The  gate-keeper  agreed  that  there  was  plenty 
of  standing  room  about  in  the  grounds  and  my 
master  urged  him  to  let  the  boys  in.  "They 
want  to  see  the  game,"  he  said.  "They  will 
enjoy  it  more  than  the  grown  boys  in  there; 
they  really  know  more  about  it." 

The  gate-keeper  said  it  was  against  the  rules, 
and  he  could  not  let  anybody  in  unless  he  paid. 

"What  is  the  charge.?"  said  my  master. 

"Twenty-five  cents." 

"You  don't  charge  children  full  price,  do 
you!^ 

"Well,  yes,  we  do  —  no,  if  those  children 
want  to  go  in  I  will  admit  them  for  fifteen  cents 
each." 

Well,  the  gate-keeper  and  my  master  counted 
all  the  boys    that  were  around    there   (I    think 


AQUICKRUN  79 

there  were  twenty-four),  my  master  made  some 
lump  sum  deal  and  paid  the  fee,  and  all  of  the 
twenty-four  boys  went  trooping  in  through  the 
gate;  and  I  am  sure  if  they  rooted  as  well  for 
their  side  as  they  did  for  us,  it  certainly  proved 
to  be  the  winning  side. 


XVIII 

A  QUICK  RUN 

F  course  in  twenty-five  years'  experience 
a  great  many  very  interesting  things 
have  happened  in  our  professional 
lives.  I  have  always  taken  a  great  interest  in 
the  business.  I  have  even  been  interested  in 
the  ordinary,  what  might  be  termed  the  hum- 
drum, side  of  the  practice  of  our  profession; 
but  there  have  been  times  that  my  keenest  in- 
terest has  been  aroused.  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  of  one  particular  time  when  the  doctor's 
brother  (who  was  practising  in  a  town  thirteen 
miles  down  the  river  from  Rock  Island)  tele- 
phoned to  my  master  to  come  at  once  in  con- 
sultation with  him,  in  the  case  of  a  little  child 


8o  DON 

who  was  suffering  a  relapse  from  diphtheria  — 
heart  failure. 

The  minute  the  doctor  came  into  the  stable 
that  day,  I  knew  something  unusual  had  hap- 
pened; because  he  did  what  he  rarely  did 
(never  a  dozen  times  in  his  life,  I  should  think), 
helped  put  on  my  harness;  and  within  two 
minutes  we  had  started  for  Andalusia. 

I  understood  my  master's  moods,  and  I  knew 
it  was  something  very  urgent.  After  we  had 
started,  driving  out  the  Milan  road.  Master 
told  me  I  must  do  my  best;  because  it  was,  he 
feared,  a  race  with  Death,  and  I  must  make 
the  thirteen  miles  in  less  than  an  hour.  He 
used  the  whip  a  little,  just  to  remind  me  (it 
wasn't  necessary)  that  I  had  got  to  do  my  best; 
and  we  flew  over  the  road  to  Milan,  across  the 
five  bridges  that  span  the  various  parts  of  Rock 
River  as  it  divides  itself  around  the  Islands  be- 
fore it  joins  the  Mississippi,  entered  Milan, 
through  Milan  and  then  down  the  river  road 
at  the  fastest  gait  I  ever  took  and  kept  for  such 
a  long  journey.  As  the  doctor  pulled  me  up 
at  the  gate,  he  took  out  his  watch  and  said: 


AQUICKRUN  8i 

**You  have  done  well,  old  fellow!  We  have 
made  it  in  jiist  fifty-five  minutes." 

The  doctor's  brother  appeared  in  the  door  and 
exclaimed:  "It  doesn't  seem  possible  you  are 
here!  It  is  just  one  hour  since  I  hung  up  the 
telephone." 

My  master  threw  down  the  lines  without 
hitching  me  and  hurried  into  the  house.  I  felt 
from  the  look  on  Dr.  Frank's  face  that  all  was 
not  well;  and  I  assure  you,  though  I  was  tired 
from  my  long,  quick  journey,  I  suffered  as 
much  from  anxiety  over  what  was  going  on  in 
that  house  as  from  the  hour's  hard  run.  It  was 
in  the  summer  and  the  doors  and  windows  were 
open.  I  could  see  people  in  the  house  hurrying 
to  and  fro,  and  caught  sight  of  my  master  and 
his  brother  two  or  three  times  as  they  seemed 
to  be  doing  things  for  the  little  patient.  All  at 
once  I  saw  my  master  coming  towards  the  win- 
dow with  something  in  his  arms.  He  sat  down 
by  the  window  with  the  child  upon  a  pillow  so 
that  the  little  sufferer  could  get  more  fresh  air. 

I  think  I  appreciated  this  scene  more  than  I 
ever  had   anything  like  it,   probably   because   I 


82  DON 

was  nearer  to  It.  The  room  in  which  they  were 
was  so  near  the  street  that  I  could  easily  see 
into  it.  It  made  me  feel  badly  and  I  turned 
away  for  a  while.  The  next  time  I  looked  to- 
wards the  house  I  saw  what  I  supposed  to  be 
the  father  and  mother  crying  as  if  their  hearts 
would  break;  the  two  doctors  had  gone  away 
from  the  window  and  the  child  was  not  there. 
I  guessed,  what  I  afterwards  learned  was  true, 
that  the  little  sufferer  was  no  more. 

Pretty  soon  my  master  and  his  brother  came 
out,  got  into  the  carriage  and  started  me  to- 
wards Dr.  Frank's  house;  and  I  heard  them  say 
that  they  knew  of  nothing  on  earth  that  would 
save  a  child  who  had  diphtheria  when  a  relapse 
like  that  one  set  in.  We  drove  on  over  to  the 
house,  the  two  brothers  talking  all  of  the  time 
about  the  loss  of  the  little  patient.  I  had  my 
dinner  there  with  Nelhe,  a  little  filly  about  my 
own  age  whom  I  often  saw  when  I  drove  to 
Andalusia  or  Dr.  Frank  came  to  Rock  Island; 
we  were  very  fond  of  each  other.  After  dinner 
Master  and  I  leisurely  drove  back  to  Rock  Island, 
arriving  home  before  evening,  tired   and   sober. 


Cj 


►J    c<, 

s 
o 

s 


THE    SEWER    HORSE  83 

XIX 

THE   SEWER  HORSE 

DO  not  believe  one  person  in  a  thousand 
knows  how  intensely  and  excruciatingly  a 
horse  can  suffer.  I  really  don't  know  my- 
self from  personal  experience.  I  have  been 
hurt,  and  hurt  awfully,  and  have  suffered  from 
ordinary  illnesses  such  as  horses  have;  but 
when  you  come  to  downright  suffering  it  seems 
to  me  that  a  horse  endures  more  real  agony 
than  a  human  or  any  animal  that  I  have  ever 
known. 

I  have  rarely  seen  a  horse  badly  hurt.  I  am 
going  to  tell  about  one  that  was  mortally  hurt, 
and  the  scream  that  horse  uttered  I  shall  never 
forget.  It  put  me  all  in  a  quiver;  it  seemed  to 
me  every  separate  hair  on  my  body  stood  up. 
Horses  and  men  stood  aghast  at  the  wonderful 
spectacle  of  pain  which  that  poor  horse  pre- 
sented. 

I  have  headed  this  "The  Sewer  Horse," 
simply  because  he  was  a  contractor's  horse  that 
was  working  on  a  big  ditch,  a  sewer,  in  Rock 


84  DON 

Island,  on  Second  Avenue.  I  have  heard  the 
men  say  the  ditch  was  about  eight  feet  deep. 
I  happened  to  be  driving  along  just  past  them 
when  the  off  horse  on  the  team  fell  into  the 
ditch.  I  saw  him  go  in;  my  master  saw  him 
go  in,  and  we  stopped,  thinking  he  must  have 
been  badly  hurt.  The  moment  of  his  falling 
he  uttered  half  a  dozen  such  screams  as  cannot 
be  described,  once  heard  would  always  be  re- 
membered, and  would  bring  home  to  the  hearer 
how  a  horse  can  suffer  when  mortally  hurt. 

I  will  not  go  into  the  harrowing  details  of 
the  Injury  to  this  poor  so-called  dumb  animal; 
but  he  was  badly  injured  and  the  men  in  kind- 
ness soon  put  an  end  to  his  pain. 

I  have  heard  the  same  scream  from  a  horse 
two  or  three  other  times.  I  almost  wish  that 
every  man  and  woman  could  hear  that  sound 
once.  I  am  sure  that  their  hearts  would  ever 
after  be  warmer  towards  poor  horses.  While 
our  ordinary  suffering,  from  confinement  and 
the  galling  of  the  harness,  and  the  hurting  of 
the  carriage,  the  hard  roads,  the  knocks,  the 
falls    and    the   hundred    and    one    injuries    from 


FEAR    THE    UNKNOWN        85 

which  we  suffer,  are  bad  enough;  yet  what  I 
have  just  tfied  to  describe  is  quite  beyond 
description. 


XX 

HORSES,   LIKE  MEN,  FEAR    THE 
UNKNOWN 

KNOW  that  people  sometimes  wonder  why 
a  horse  is  afraid,  and  will  scold  and  whip 
him,  and  try  to  make  him  do  things  which 
he  is  unable  to  do  from  sheer  fright.  If  people 
used  a  little  more  common  sense  —  as  I  have 
heard  Master  say  a  good  many  times,  horse 
sense  —  it  would  be  better  for  them  and  for 
their  horses. 

I  don't  wish  the  following  story  to  reflect 
upon  anybody,  because  I  think  it  was  through 
ignorance  that  it  came  about;  but  I  know  it 
gave  me  a  great  deal  of  suffering,  as  in  fact 
almost  everything  I  have  learned  has  caused  me 
more  or  less  suffering. 

One  summer  the  Kickapoo  Indians  had  a 
"Medicine  Camp"  on  the  edge  of  Rock  Island 


86  DON 

in  a  little  open  square;  and  every  night  they 
would  have  some  kind  of  music,  a  tom-tom  or 
a  harp  or  something  of  that  sort,  then  speech- 
making  and  then  the  selhng  of  their  patent 
medicines.  I  guess  there  were  no  real  Indians 
among  the  crowd  —  if  so,  they  were  only  one 
or  two  old  braves  hired  for  the  occasion  —  but 
it  was  a  genuine  fake  Medicine  Camp. 

Quite  often  after  office  hours  in  the  evening 
we  would  drive  up  around  there  just  to  see 
what  was  going  on.  One  moonlight  evening 
there  was  a  big  time  on  and  nearly  everybody 
in  Rock  Island  was  somewhere  in  the  Kickapoo 
Indian  Camp,  because  there  was  to  be  lively 
music  and  a  balloon  ascension. 

We  drove  up  pretty  near  the  place,  and  I 
saw  a  great  big  thing,  not  hke  anything  I  had 
ever  seen  before;  it  didn't  look  like  a  house 
or  carriage  or  anything  at  all  famihar.  I  was 
so  frightened  I  didn't  want  to  go  any  nearer. 
My  master  didn't  force  me  very  close,  but  I 
was  afraid,  and  it  seemed  to  me  the  thing  was 
growing  larger  all  the  time.  I  know  now  it 
was  the  wind   that  caused   it  to  blow  and   flap 


FEAR    THE    UNKNOWN        87 

and  make  a  great  noise.  I  hadn't  any  idea 
then  what  it  was  or  what  it  was  going  to  do, 
and  I  stood  all  fear  and  trembling,  I  don't 
think  anybody  realized  how  much  I  was  suf- 
fering on  account  of  that  great  odd-looking 
thing. 

Of  course  I  afterwards  learned  that  it  was 
merely  a  balloon.  If  I  had  known,  if  anybody 
had  explained  it  to  me  in  a  way  that  I  could 
have  understood,  I  should  not  have  been  afraid; 
but  I  didn't  know,  I  didn't  understand,  and  I 
could  not  help  being  terrified. 

The  thing  kept  growing  bigger  all  the  time, 
the  people  got  more  and  more  excited,  the 
crowd  got  larger,  and  by  and  by  we  were  all 
hemmed  in  behind  and  on  all  sides,  and  we 
could  not  get  forward  or  backward.  There 
we  were  and  still  that  great  monster  kept 
growing  and  growing.  The  longer  I  stayed  the 
less  frightened  I  was,  and  I  was  getting  calmed 
down  and  feeling  that  perhaps  everything  was 
all  right.  The  thing  that  gave  me  the  most 
confidence  was  that  there  were  so  many  people 
and    horses,    and    I    didn't    think    that    people 


88  DON 

would  stay  and  keep  their  horses  where  there 
was  any  great  danger. 

Pretty  soon  there  was  a  move  in  the  crowd, 
and  everybody  seemed  excited.  Then  I  began 
to  feel  afraid  again,  and  all  at  once  that  enor- 
mous thing  rose  right  up  in  the  air  —  and  was 
gone  way  above  us!  My  heart  simply  stopped 
beating  and  I  nearly  dropped  to  the  ground. 
When  it  first  started  I  was  too  frightened  to 
jump  or  biack  or  do  anything,  and  before  I 
could  move  it  was  entirely  out  of  my  sight.  I 
can  remember  that  everybody  standing  near  me 
was  looking  up  in  the  air  and  I  heard  people 
exclaiming: 

"There  it  goes!  It's  going  higher  and  higher! 
He's  throwing  out  sand!  He's  going  up!  He's 
'way  up  out  of  sight!" 

Then  I  heard  some  one  say:  "He  is  coming 
down!  Oh,  he's  in  the  parachute!  The  bal- 
loon is  turned  bottom  side  up!  He's  falling! 
No,  it's  holding  him!  There  —  he's  all  right! 
He's  safe;    he's  sailing  down  like  a  bird." 

Very  soon  off  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  the 
man   lighted   in   the   street   quite  safe,  and   the 


A    LONG    COLD    NIGHT        89 

balloon  fell  down  very  near  where  it  went  up, 
bottom  side  up,  all  collapsed,  just  a  big  bag. 
The  greatest  fright  of  my  life  had  passed  and 
nobody  was  hurt. 


XXI 

A  LONG,   COLD  NIGHT' 
^   AM  going  to  tell    you  now  something  that 


happened  to  me  on  New  Year's  Eve  in  il 
I  had  been  in  bed  and  asleep  a  long  time; 
it  was  a  very  cold  night;  I  could  hear  the  sleet 
falling  upon  the  roof  of  my  stall,  when  Oscar 
came  rushing  in  and  took  me  out,  hurriedly 
threw  on  the  harness  and  before  he  had  me 
half  ready  the  doctor  came  running  into  the 
stable  putting  on  his  overcoat,  his  bag  in  hand 
and  said: 

"Hurry,  Oscar,  I  have  got  to  make  a  quick 
run." 

We  started  for  South  Rock  Island  just  as 
fast  as  I  could  go.  The  doctor,  contrary  to 
his  usual  custom,  used  the  whip  somewhat,  but 
I   didn't  mind  when   I   understood   that  it  was 


90  DON 

an  urgent  call;  and  I  knew  this  must  be  a 
very  urgent  call  because  the  doctor  seemed  so 
hurried  and  excited.  It  took  only  three  or  four 
minutes  to  get  out  there,  about  a  mile,  corner 
Twelfth  Street  and  Thirteenth  Avenue.  I  knew 
the  place,  and  I  knew  the  people;  I  had  often 
been  there.  It  was  the  house  of  John  SutclifFe, 
the  painter. 

I  hadn't  any  idea  what  the  trouble  was. 
The  doctor  hadn't  told  me  about  it,  and  I 
don't  think  he  knew  himself  just  what  it  was. 
As  we  drove  up  to  the  house,  one  of  the  sons 
opened  the  door  and  said: 

"Hurry,  Doctor,  she  has  fainted!" 
The  doctor  thought  he  put  the  blanket  on 
me;  I  guess  he  did  partly  cover  me,  but  it 
soon  blew  off.  He  took  down  from  the  terret 
the  strap  that  was  fastened  to  my  bit  to  tie 
me,  but  in  his  hurry  he  didn't  do  it.  That 
made  no  difference  to  me;  of  course  I  knew  I 
had  to  stay  there.  It  was  raining  hard,  and 
freezing  as  it  fell,  and  one  of  the  coldest, 
bitterest  nights  I  ever  remember  being  out 
in. 


A    LONG    COLD    NIGHT        91 

Well,  of  course  I  knew  nothing  about  what 
was  going  on  in  the  house,  and  I  stood  as  well 
as  I  could  for  a  long  time,  expecting  every 
minute  the  doctor  would  come;  but  he  didn't. 
Nobody  came  out,  and  I  stood  there  until  I 
nearly  froze.  Then  I  began  to  walk  around. 
Finally  I  thought  something  must  have  hap- 
pened, that  the  doctor  was  sick,  or  had  gone 
home  and  forgotten  me,  and  I  started  for  home. 
After  going  part  way,  it  came  over  me  strongly 
that  I  was  doing  wrong;  so  I  turned  round  and 
went  back.  But  I  waited  so  long  and  got  so 
cold  that  I  felt  sure  something  was  wrong  and 
I  determined  to  go  home.  I  got  about  the 
same  distance,  and  someway  I  could  not  go  any 
farther;  I  went  back.  I  did  that  thing  over 
and  over  again.  I  couldn't  seem  to  go;  I 
couldn't  stay  there,  and  I  kept  traveHng  round. 
It  seemed  to  me  the  longest  night  I  had  ever 
spent.  By  and  by  the  door  opened;  I  had 
just  come  back  from  my  —  oh,  I  should  say 
fifteenth  trip,  and  had  waited  about  a  minute 
when  the  doctor  came  out,  bag  in  hand. 

"Well,  poor  old  fellow!     You  have  done  well 


92  DON 

to  wait  for  me  all  this  time.  Headed  for  home, 
aren't  you?  Not  hitched?  No  blanket  on? 
Well,  well,  well!  You  are  a  horse  to  be  proud 
of." 

He  jumped  in  and  we  hurried  home.  He  put 
me  into  the  barn,  wrapped  a  warm  blanket 
about  me,  gave  me  a  lot  of  straw  and  left  me 
with  a  love  pat. 

This  story,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  is  fin- 
ished; but  what  pleased  me  the  most,  and  one 
reason  I  wanted  to  tell  it  to  you,  is  that  in  the 
morning  the  doctor  discovered  what  I  had  been 
doing  the  night  before.  When  we  drove  out 
early  in  the  morning  to  see  the  woman  who  had 
been  so  sick,  he  discovered  my  tracks  in  the 
road  and  frozen  sleet;  and  could  see  how  many 
times  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  go  home  and 
how  many  times  I  had  changed  my  mind  and 
gone  back  to  wait  for  him.  He  came  up  to  my 
head  and  stroked  my  nose  and  said  in  a  voice 
that  I  fancied  shook  a  little: 

"Poor  old  Don!  You  are  the  best  horse 
that  ever  lived.  I  don't  believe  there  is  another 
horse  in   Rock   Island   that  would   have  waited 


A    LONG    COLD    NIGHT        93 

out  there  without  a  blanket  and  without  being 
hitched,  on  such  a  bitter  cold  night." 

He  then  told  me  what  was  the  trouble  inside. 
Mrs.  SutclifFe,  an  aged  lady,  had  fallen  on  the 
slippery  streets  on  returning  home  from  a  New 
Year's  Eve  party,  and  had  broken  her  arm. 
The  bone  had  pricked  through,  and  she  was 
suffering  great  agony.  It  took  the  doctor  three 
hours  to  properly  dress  it,  and  to  relieve  and 
quiet  her. 

I  have  heard  the  doctor  tell  this  story  a  great 
many  times  to  people  who  were  riding  with  him. 
Some  of  them  didn't  seem  to  believe  the  story, 
thought  I  would  have  gone  home  the  first  time, 
and  left  my  master,  —  just  because  I  am  a 
horse! 

I  want  to  say  right  here,  and  that  is  the 
chief  reason  for  telling  this  story,  that  a  horse 
has  feelings,  and  a  horse  knows  pretty  well  the 
difference  between  right  and  wrong.  People 
think  horses  do  not  have  any  reason.  They 
don't,  of  course,  have  the  same  reasoning  power 
that  men  have;  but  they  have  horse-sense,  and 
what  is  better  than  that  they  have  hearts. 


94  DON 


XXII 

BESS  IS  POISONED 

THINK  you  will  remember  the  story  of 
Gyp  and  how  his  Hfe  came  to  an  end. 
Well,  our  beautiful  Gordon  setter,  Bess, 
came  very  near  losing  her  life  the  same  way. 
One  Sunday  morning,  in  the  fall  of  '89,  Bess 
had  been  with  us  making  calls,  running  about 
so  happy,  making  everybody  glad  as  was  her 
wont.  There  was  always  a  pleasant  expression 
on  her  face;  she  was  never  cross,  never  dis- 
agreeable, always  ready  to  go.  It  seems  to 
me  more  people  knew  Bess  and  spoke  to  her 
than  knew  us  —  that  is,  my  master  and  myself. 
This  morning  after  a  long  round  the  doctor 
had  driven  me  up  to  the  door  and  tied  me  as 
he  usually  did  (that  being  the  pohce  law),  and 
had  gone  into  the  house.  Bess,  so  far  as  I 
could  see,  seemed  much  as  usual.  I  think 
perhaps  she  had  been  unusually  lively  all  the 
morning;  but  the  first  thing  I  knew  she  was 
walking  awkwardly,  and  I  at  once  thought  of 
Gyp  and  how  he  acted  when  he  was  taken  so 


BESS    IS    POISONED  95 

very  sick.  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell, 
she  could  hardly  walk  at  all.  All  of  her  legs 
were  stiff;  she  walked  as  if  they  were  wood. 
She  trembled,  reeled  and  fell;  got  up  and  tried 
to  walk,  but  fell  again.  She  got  up  the  third 
time  and  started,  trying  so  hard  to  get  to  the 
porch  and  to  the  door.  She  tried  three  or  four 
times  and  finally  got  on  the  porch,  where 
she  fell  on  her  side,  her  legs  all  stiff.  She 
trembled  and  shook  and  made  a  great  noise, 
until  someone  passing  saw  her  and  rushed  up 
and  pulled  the  bell.  Mistress  came  to  the  door, 
and,  seeing  Bess,  called  my  master.  He  knew 
at  a  glance  what  the  trouble  was;  I  heard  him 
cry,  "Oh,  Bess  has  been  poisoned  just  as  Gyp 
was!"  He  rang  the  bell  for  the  man  at  the 
stable  and  he  rang  it  so  violently  that  the  man 
ran  out  in  a  hurry.  Master  called  to  him  to 
bring  the  wheelbarrow.  Taking  Bess  up  very 
carefully,  Master  laid  her  on  the  wheelbarrow 
and  took  her  to  the  stable. 

After  a  long  time  someone  came  and  untied 
me  and  led  me  to  the  barn.  As  I  passed  into 
the  door  I  saw  Bess  lying  on  a  robe,  my  master 


96  DON 

and  several  people  standing  over  her.  She 
looked  so  badly  that  I  thought  she  must  be 
dead.  Oscar  unharnessed  me  and  put  me  into 
my  stall;  and,  by  turning  round,  I  could  see 
Bess  and  what  was  being  done  to  save  her  life. 
Master  stayed  with  her  constantly  for  more 
than  five  hours.  He  neglected  all  of  his  other 
work  and  his  patients,  and  never  left  the  barn. 
I  didn't  count  them,  but  I  heard  Master  say 
afterwards  that  more  than  thirty  people  called 
at  the  stable  during  those  hours  to  see  how  Bess 
was.  Two  or  three  times  I  heard  them  say, 
"Well,  I  think  she's  gone  now."  Then  again 
she  would  breathe  and  they  would  take  hope 
and  work  on  with  her. 

Of  course  I  didn't  myself  have  a  connected 
history  of  the  case  and  all  that  was  done,  as 
I  was  so  far  away,  and  yet  I  had  a  general  idea, 
but  when  the  next  day  Dr.  Hoeffle,  an  associate 
of  my  master,  came  into  the  stable  with  him  to 
see  Bess,  I  heard  my  master  tell  this  story 
about  the  treatment: 

As  soon  as  they  had  gotten  Bess  to  the  stable 
and  laid  her  on  the  robe,  and  my  master  could 


BESS    IS    POISONED  97 

examine  her,  he  decided  that  it  was  strychnine 
poisoning;  she  had  so  many  spasms  that 
seemed  Hke  the  spasms  of  strychnine.  She  had 
that  pecuHar  symptom,  that  anyone  (whether 
man  or  animal)  has  when  poisoned  with  strych- 
nine, of  going  into  a  spasm  from  the  shghtest 
jar  or  noise;  and  Master  said  that  Bess  would 
have  one  of  those  hard  spasms  if  he  spoke  un- 
usually loud  or  made  as  much  noise  as  to  snap 
his   fingers. 

Dr.  Hoeffle  seemed  very  much  interested  in 
the  treatment.  Master  told  him  just  what  he 
did.  He  gave  her  hyperdermic  injections  of 
medicine  and  emetics;  also  chloral  and  chloro- 
form and  inhalations  of  amyl  nitrate  and  tried 
to  give  antidotes  through  her  mouth,  but  she 
could  not  swallow.  He  said  that  every  time 
Bess  had  a  spasm,  for  a  moment  afterward  she 
would  seem  to  be  quite  dead;  and  then,  as 
consciousness  came  back,  she  would  wag  her 
tail  three  times.  I  could  hear  that  every  time; 
I  could  hear  her  tail  hit  the  floor  when  she 
wagged  it.  My  master  thought  that  was  her 
way     of    recognizing     and     acknowledging     the 


98  DON 

things  that  were  being  done  for  her.  He  said 
her  mouth  and  tongue  were  almost  as  black  as 
her  body,  —  she  had  such  a  beautiful  black, 
shining  coat! 

Master  said  the  case  was  exceedingly  hard  to 
treat,  because  everything  he  did  or  tried  to  do, 
almost  every  move  he  made,  would  send  Bess 
into  spasms.  She  had  over  fifty  severe  spasms 
during  the  lorig  afternoon.  Along  about  four 
o'clock  the  medicine  seemed  to  be  helping 
her  and  antidoting  the  poison;  she  had  the 
spasms  less  often  and  less  severe.  Before  an- 
other hour  had  passed  they  had  entirely  ceased, 
and  the  doctor  felt  that  she  was  going  to  re- 
cover. At  five  o'clock  he  left  the  stable  for  the 
first  time  to  attend  to  his  business. 

Oscar  hurriedly  put  me  into  the  carriage  and 
the  doctor  and  I  drove  away,  leaving  Oscar 
in  charge  of  Bess.  When  we  came  back  at 
seven  o'clock  she  was  quite  well,  although  she 
could  not  stand.  I  never  shall  forget  the  look 
that  was  upon  her  face  and  the  way  she  wagged 
her  tail  when  the  doctor  came  in  and  spoke  to 
her;    she  seemed  so  grateful  and  happy. 


BESS    IS    POISONED  99 

It  was  some  days  before  Bess  was  entirely 
well,  and  before  the  doctor  allowed  her  to  go 
out  with  us  again  on  our  calls.  When  she  did, 
what  an  ovation  everybody  gave  her!  Her 
sickness  had  been  in  the  papers  and  all  of  the 
doctor's  friends  knew  about  it,  and  everybody 
was  so  much  interested  in  her  recovery. 

Nobody  ever  knew  how  she  got  the  poison, 
but  it  was  supposed  that  somebody  had  put  out 
the  poisoned  meat  for  some  other  dog.  Cer- 
tainly no  one  would  try  purposely  to  poison  Bess. 
It  seems  to  me  that  is  one  of  the  very  meanest 
things  that  men  are  ever  guilty  of  doing,  the 
poisoning  of  animals  in  this  way.  I  hope  I 
shall  never  see  another  case  like  those  of  Gyp 
and  Bess.  While  Bess  nearly  recovered,  my 
master  thinks  that  she  never  was  quite  the 
same  afterwards;  and  that  undoubtedly  the 
effects  of  this  very  serious  illness  lasted  through 
her  life,  and  perhaps  shortened  her  life  in  the 
end.  She  had  another  severe  sickness  about 
which  I  am  going  to  tell  at  some  other  time. 


loo  DON 

XXIII 

MY  MASTER  GOES   TO  JAIL 

A  HORSE'S  life,  as  I  have  said,  is  in- 
evitably closely  connected  with  the 
lives  of  people,  more  especially  the 
people  with  whom  he  lives.  Of  course  my  life 
is  all  done  up  with,  and  a  part  of,  my  master's 
life.  Indeed,  it  seems  to  me  that  without  him  I 
should  not  have  had  any  real  independent  life. 
A  horse  is  hardly  a  complete  entity  of  himself, 
but,  rather,  a  complement  of  the  human;  and 
in  relating  my  long  life,  I  must  of  necessity 
bring  in  a  good  deal  that  is  more  directly  a  part 
of  my  master's  life  than  of  my  own.  So  I  feel 
that  I  have  a  right  to  tell  how  my  master  once 
went  to  jail. 

It  was  this  way:  Master  was  called  to  Court 
as  a  witness  in  a  case.  I  remember  very  well 
the  morning  we  drove  up  to  the  courthouse; 
I  do  not  think  my  master  had  given  the  matter 
a  second  thought  after  receiving  his  summons. 
It  was  a  very  ordinary  thing  for  him  to  go  to 
Court   as   a   witness   for  one   thing  or   another, 


MASTER    GOES    TO    JAIL    loi 

sometimes  as  a  medical  expert,  sometimes  as 
a  witness  in  ordinary  business  cases;  and  I 
noticed  nothing  unusual  in  his  manner  on  this 
occasion. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  at  the  beginning  of  the 
court  session.  At  about  eleven  o'clock  I  saw 
my  master  coming  out  of  the  courthouse  and 
everybody  seemed  to  be  coming  with  him.  Mr. 
Jackson,  a  lawyer  who  had  an  office  in  our 
building,  was  with  him  talking  earnestly;  and, 
as  they  drew  near  the  carriage,  I  heard  him  say 
to  my  master: 

"Doctor,  you  will  have  to  answer  those 
questions;  you  will  have  to  testify.  The  judge 
will  be  obliged  to  force  you  to  do  it," 

And  my  master  said:  "But  I  cannot,  Mr. 
Jackson;  it  would  violate  the  confidence  of  the 
consulting-room.  Every  particle  of  honor  and 
manhood  in  me  cries  out  against  it,  and  I 
simply  cannot  do  it." 

By  that  time  quite  a  crowd  had  collected 
round  the  buggy,  and  everybody  was  talking: 
"Why,  Doctor,  you  will  have  to  do  it  or  go  to 
jail!"     As  we  drove  away,  I  heard  Mr.  Jackson 


I02  DON 

calling:  *'Be  sure  to  be  back  by  two  o'clock; 
and  you  must  have  changed  your  mind  by  that 
time,  because  you  will  have  to  testify." 

My  master  was  very  much  excited  all  the  way 
home;  but  I  felt,  from  his  manner  of  driving 
me  and  from  what  he  said  to  me  as  he  jumped 
out  of  the  buggy,  that  no  lawyers  or  Court 
could  make  him  change  his  mind  on  that  sub- 
ject because  he  knew  that  he  was  right. 

About  half  past  one  he  came  to  the  stable 
(the  boy  had  me  all  hitched  up),  got  into  the 
buggy  and  drove  out.  He  didn't  seem  the 
least  bit  excited.  He  took  me  alone  and  I 
remember  we  went  for  a  short  drive  around  by 
the  saw-mills  and  up  Third  Avenue  to  the  court- 
house, getting  there  about  ten  minutes  of  two. 
There  was  a  crowd  around  the  courthouse  and 
the  first  man  I  saw  was  Mr.  Jackson,  who 
came  up  to  us  and  said,  "Doctor,  have  you 
changed  your  mind.^" 

My  master  didn't  answer  at  once,  but  got  out 
of  the  buggy  and  came  forward  to  tie  me  to  the 
post;  and  as  he  did  so  he  stroked  my  nose, 
looked  into  my  eyes  and   talked  to  me  a  mo- 


MASTER    GOES    TO    JAIL    103 

ment.  Then  he  said  quietly:  "Mr.  Jackson, 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  the  position  I 
have  taken  is  right;  and  you  would  not  want 
me  to  recede  from  a  position  which  I  know, 
and  you  know,  and  everybody  knows  is  right, 
just  to  escape  going  to  jail.  I  shall  never  do  it. 
No  one  who  comes  to  my  consulting-room  in 
trouble,  and  in  confidence  tells  me  the  secrets 
of  his  life,  shall  be  betrayed.  I  shall  never 
reveal  those  secrets  to  anyone,  not  even  to 
a  judge  or  jury.  Now  let's  go  into  the  court- 
house. I  am  ready  to  pay  my  fine  and  take 
my  sentence;  if  it  is  to  go  to  jail  I  shall  be 
vindicated."  And  my  master  strode  up  the 
steps  with  an  air  of  dogged  determination. 

I  tell  you  I  felt  pretty  blue;  I  knew  some- 
thing was  going  to  happen  but  I  couldn't  guess 
what  it  was.  I  had  never  seen  my  master 
in  just  that  state  before.  I  was  tied  at  the 
Third  Avenue  entrance  to  the  courthouse;  the 
jail  is  just  a  few  steps  farther  down  the  avenue, 
both  buildings  being  in  the  same  square.  In 
about  half  an  hour  from  the  time  they  entered 
I  heard  steps  on  the  stairs.     Previous  to  that 


I04  DON 

it  had  been  as  quiet  almost  as  the  grave.  I 
saw  my  master  coming  from  the  courthouse 
door  with  two  court  officers,  one  on  either 
side,  Sheriff  Hemenway  just  behind  them. 
My  master  looked  very  white  but  firm  and 
cool. 

I  knew  something  wonderful,  something  awful 
had  happened;  I  didn't  fully  understand  what 
it  was,  but  I  knew  I  loved  Master  and  wished 
I  could  do  something.  Just  as  the  four  men 
came  opposite  me  he  stepped  from  between  the 
two  officers,  patted  my  nose  and  said:  ** Good- 
bye, Old  Don,  your  master  is  going  to  jail"; 
adding  under  his  breath,  "going  because  he  is 
right.     Oscar  will  come  for  you." 

Then  he  stepped  back  between  the  officers 
and  they  resumed  their  march  toward  the  jail. 
I  heard  him  ask  Sheriff  Hemenway  to  telephone 
the  house.  Number  46,  and  have  Oscar  come 
up  for  "Old  Don,"  also  to  tell  my  mistress  that 
he  had  been  sent  to  jail  for  refusing  to  become 
a  criminal  himself.  That  was  the  last  word 
I  heard  as  my  master  and  the  three  attendants 
entered  the  door  of  the  jail. 


MASTER    GOES    TO    JAIL    105 

Now  that  all  happened  in  this  way,  as  I 
afterwards  learned:  My  master  was  summoned 
to  Court  to  testify  in  the  case  of  a  man  who  had 
committed  a  crime  against  society.  My  master 
had  told  what  he  knew  about  the  case,  and  was 
just  about  to  step  down  from  the  witness  box 
when  the  prosecuting  attorney  asked  him  if 
he  had  ever  treated  the  defendant  medically. 
My  master  said  he  had  and  the  attorney  asked 
for  what  sickness.  My  master  replied  that 
he  could  not  answer  that.  The  attorney  asked 
why  he  could  not,  and  my  master  said  that  it 
would  be  betraying  the  confidence  of  the  con- 
sulting-room, and  that  no  physician  would  do 
that. 

"But,"  the  attorney  said,  "you  will  have  to 
do  it  here;  you  are  in  Court;  you  have  no 
secrets  from  the  Court." 

My  master  insisted  that  the  Court  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  secrets  of  the  consulting-room 
unless  it  might  be  in  case  of  murder;  and  he 
believed  that  this  case,  while  a  crime  against 
society  for  which  he  hoped  the  man  would  be 
punished,  was  not  of  sufficiently  serious  import 


io6  DON 

for  him  to  break  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  un- 
written statutes  —  that  anyone  was  entitled 
to  the  protection  of  necessary  secrets  revealed  in 
a  doctor's  consulting-room. 

The  attorney  said,  "I  appeal  to  the  Court  to 
compel  the  witness  to  answer  this  question." 

Then  the  attorney  for  the  man  on  trial 
spoke  in  a  low  tone  to  my  master:  "Doctor, 
you  will  have  to  answer  it;  it  does  not  hurt 
my  client  now." 

The  doctor  replied  distinctly:  "I  am  not 
trying  to  defend  your  client;  I  believe  him 
guilty,  and  hope  he  will  receive  his  just  punish- 
ment, and  anything  I  can  honorably  and  hon- 
estly do  to  help  convict  him  I  shall  do;  but  I 
will  not  answer  this  question." 

At  this  point,  of  course,  the  matter  was 
referred  to  the  judge,  and  the  judge  said  in  a 
very  stern  and  judicial  voice,  "Witness  will 
answer  the  question." 

My  master  replied  quietly:  "I  beg  the  pardon 
of  his  honor  the  Court,  but  the  question  asked 
by  the  prosecuting  attorney  is  improper,  and  I 
cannot  answer  it." 


MASTER    GOES    TO    JAIL    107 

The  judge  quickly  commanded:  "You  will 
have  to  answer  that  question,  and  proceed  to 
do  it  at  once!  The  stenographer  will  please  read 
the  question."  And  when  the  question  had 
been  read,  the  judge  said  in  a  firm,  clear  voice, 
"Witness  will  answer  that  question  as  it  is 
read." 

Whereupon  my  master  replied  in  just  as  firm 
and  just  as  clear  a  voice,  "I  cannot  answer  the 
question." 

Then  the  judge  declared:  "This  is  a  case  of 
contempt  of  Court,  and  I  shall  have  to  fine 
and  imprison  you  for  contempt." 

My  master  replied:  "You  can  fine  me,  and 
I  will  pay  the  fine;  you  can  sentence  me  to 
prison  and  I  will  go  to  prison,  and  I  will  stay 
there  as  long  as  I  live  before  I  will  answer  that 
question." 

This  naturally  created  a  great  deal  of  excite- 
ment in  the  courtroom.  It  seemed  almost  as 
if  pandemonium  reigned:  everybody  talking, 
everybody  whispering;  some  were  urging  the 
doctor  to  answer  the  question,  others  were 
discussing  the  ground  for  the  refusal,  and  the 


io8  DON 

judge  looked  perplexed.  It  was  at  this  point 
that  the  Court  was  adjourned,  and  it  was  at 
this  time  that  the  doctor  and  attorneys  came 
out  of  the  courthouse  at  eleven  o'clock.  The 
judge  had  taken  the  matter  under  advisement 
until  two  o'clock  to  see  what  he  could  do.  He 
had  hurriedly  during  the  intermission  of  three 
hours  consulted  with  the  attorneys  and  had 
decided  upon  a  fine  and  sentence:  the  minimum 
fine  of  fifty  dollars  and  a  jail  sentence  which 
read:  *'I  sentence  you  to  pay  a  fine  of  fifty 
dollars  and  to  confinement  in  the  Rock  Island 
County  jail  for  a  term  of  three  hours." 

The  rest  of  the  story  I  have  told  you:  how 
the  court  officers  and  the  sheriff  carried  out  the 
sentence.  By  the  time  my  master  had  been 
locked  in  jail,  the  news  had  spread  about  the 
city  and  many  people,  many  of  the  doctor's 
friends  and  many  who  knew  him  but  little, 
were  intensely  interested  in  it;  and  before  he 
had  been  in  jail  an  hour  crowds  had  collected 
in  the  courthouse  grounds  and  the  subject  of 
my  master  going  to  jail  for  refusing  to  testify 
concerning   knowledge   obtained   in   his   consult- 


MASTER    GOES    TO    JAIL    109 

ing-room  was  the  one  topic  of  conversation  for 
the  afternoon.  Even  the  Court  could  not  get 
down  to  business.  In  a  half-hearted  way  one 
simple  case  was  tried  and  Court  adjourned 
before  four  o'clock.  The  attorneys,  and  the 
judge  himself,  came  to  the  jail,  and  they  were 
all  standing  in  groups  about  the  doors,  about 
the  grounds  and  about  the  street  waiting,  as 
it  proved,  the  time  when  the  sentence  should 
have  been  served  and  the  prisoner  should  be 
released. 

My  master  went  to  jail  at  2:30;  at  5:30  he 
was  to  come  out.  It  looked  as  if  half  the  pop- 
ulation of  Rock  Island  was  around  the  grounds 
and  near  the  jail.  My  mistress  had,  of  course, 
heard  all  about  it,  had  ordered  me  hitched  up 
and  we  had  driven  as  near  to  the  jail  as  we  could 
and  were  waiting  for  my  master  to  come  out. 
At  5:30  he  appeared  in  the  door  of  the  jail, 
flushed  but  smiling. 

His  appearance  was  the  signal  for  great 
cheering  from  the  assembled  crowd.  My  mas- 
ter's friends  and  fellow  townsmen  and  everybody 
ran  forward  to  take  him  by  the  hand.     The  first 


no  DON 

man  to  reach  him  was  Judge  Glen,  the  judge 
who  had  imposed  the  fine,  and  who  had  sen- 
tenced him  to  jail.  He  grasped  the  doctor's 
hand  and  said: 

"Doctor,  I  admire  the  position  you  have 
taken.  The  duty  which  I  felt,  according  to  the 
statutes  of  our  State  and  the  advice  of  the  at- 
torneys, that  I  must  perform,  I  assure  you  was 
the  hardest  that  has  ever  fallen  to  my  lot.  As 
a  judge  on  the  bench  of  the  great  State  of 
Illinois,  it  was  my  first  duty  to  carry  out  the 
statutes  of  that  State,  but  I  now  assure  you  I 
take  great  pleasure  in  welcoming  you  back  to 
freedom  after  your  incarceration  from  the 
shortest  jail  sentence  I  ever  imposed,  and  in 
congratulating  you  upon  the  stand  you  have 
taken;  and  I  further  assure  you  that  I  shall 
work  to  have  that  obnoxious  law  erased  from 
the  statutes  of  Illinois." 

Then  everybody  shook  hands  with  my  master, 
and  his  progress  from  the  door  of  the  jail  to 
the  carriage  where  we  stood  across  the  street  at 
the  corner  of  Third  Avenue  and  Fifteenth  Street 
was  impeded  by  friends  and  neighbors  and  even 


THE    CYCLONE  in 

strangers,  all  eager  to  tell  him  that  he  had  done 
just  right. ^     ' 

XXIV 

THE  CYCLONE 

NCE  I  was  close  to  the  edge  of  a  cy- 
clone. I  don't  expect  that  I  shall  give 
you  as  good  a  description  of  the  cyclone 
in  all  its  details  as  has  been  given  many  times 
before,  or  perhaps  as  good  a  description  as  you 
could  find  in  an  encyclopedia;  I  am  not  writing 
this  book  for  the  purpose  of  giving  the  best  de- 
scriptions of  things  and  places,  but  am  simply 
telling  of  things  as  they  have  happened  to  me. 
This  was  a  great  cyclone  that  occurred  in 
South  Rock  Island  in  the  year  1887.  It  was 
in  the  month  of  July.     There  were  evidences  of 

1  As  the  author  confided  to  the  reader  in  the  introduction  that 
everything  related  in  the  book  is  Hterally  true,  it  is  only  proper  to 
state  here  that  this  chapter  is  all  practically,  and  nearly  literally, 
true:  except  the  account  of  actually  receiving  the  sentence  (al- 
though one  was  promised)  and  going  to  jail.  This  slight  deviation 
is  made  for  the  purpose  of  calling  particular  attention  to  the  statute 
in  question. 


112  DON 

a  storm  in  the  southwest  when  we  started  out 
from  Rock  Island  to  visit  a  Httle  sick  girl  at 
the  home  of  Mr.  Leonard,  the  corner  of  Twelfth 
Street  and  Aiken  Road. 

Just  as  we  got  out  by  the  schoolhouse  on 
Ninth  Avenue  and  Twelfth  Street  we  saw  a 
pecuHar  cloud  in  the  southwest.  It  seemed  to 
be  coming  towards  us,  and  in  a  moment  after 
we  first  discovered  it  we  could  see  that  it  was 
coming  very  rapidly  and  that  it  had  a  big,  black 
funnel-shaped  look.  It  was  raising  great  quan- 
tities of  dust,  and  was  advancing  at  a  terrific 
rate;  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  me  to  tell 
it,  it  had  passed  the  town  of  Sears  a  little  to 
the  right  and  seemed  to  be  headed,  not  exactly 
towards  us,  but  as  if  it  would  pass  us  a  little 
to  our  left;  in  a  moment  it  had  crossed  Ninth 
Avenue,  which  is  the  Milan  Road,  and  was  up 
on  Twelfth  Street;  it  tore  the  roof  off  the  stable 
of  the  barn  in  which  I  first  stopped  in  Rock 
Island,  that  of  Mr.  Lloyd,  and  came  tearing 
down  upon  the  house  of  Mr.  Leonard,  took  ofl^ 
the  roof,  tore  up  the  front  fence,  tore  down  the 
ell,  destroyed  the  stable  and  the  henhouse,  and 


THE    CYCLONE  113 

was  off  in  the  bluffs  and  high  up  in  the  air 
out  of  sight,  almost  Hke  a  flash  of  lightning. 

We  had  stopped  aghast  at  the  spectacle,  but 
when  it  was  gone,  everything  was  clear;  in  a 
moment  the  dust  had  settled  and  we  resumed 
our  journey,  and  soon  came  to  the  Leonard 
place  which  was  almost  a  complete  wreck. 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  what  had  taken  place 
there,  things  that  I  saw  myself.  In  front  of 
the  house  by  the  road  there  had  been  a  wire 
fence.  The  posts  were  of  second  growth  hick- 
ory, set  in  the  ground  about  eighteen  inches. 
To  these  posts  was  fastened,  by  staples  in  the 
usual  way,  barbed  wire.  It  was  a  good  firm 
fence,  of  sufficient  strength  to  hold  horses  and 
all  kinds  of  stock.  Those  posts,  most  of  them, 
were  literally  pulled  out  of  the  ground,  many 
of  them  separated  from  the  wire:  one  was  blown 
up  the  hill  to  the  house,  a  distance  of  a  hundred 
feet,  struck  the  corner  of  the  house  fifteen  feet 
from  the  ground,  and  made  a  dent  over  an  inch 
deep,  and  then  fell  back  to  the  ground,  so  that 
one  could  easily  see  where  the  post  came  from 
down   at   the   road,  just   the  point  of  the  post 


114  DON 

that  struck  the  house,  and  just  where  it  fell,  — 
a  wonderful  feat  it  seemed  to  us  for  wind  to 
accomplish  in  such  a  short  space  of  time. 

I  am  not  through  with  those  posts.  The 
roof  had  blown  off  of  that  part  of  the  house 
where  lay  the  little  sick  girl  that  we  were  going 
to  see.  The  house  and  outbuilding  were  a 
wreck;  this  room  was  completely  uncovered, 
but  not  one  thing  in  it  molested  and  no  one  was 
hurt.  The  child's  father  was  sitting  beside  the 
bed  when  it  happened,  and  one  of  those  same 
posts  was  carried  up  over  the  rest  of  the  house  and 
dropped  within  six  inches  of  the  bed. 

And  this  we  saw  with  our  own  eyes  within 
ten,  yes,  five  minutes  of  the  time  that  the  cy- 
clone had  passed. 

Somebody  else  can  give  more  theories  and  a 
better  description,  but  these  seemed  to  us  to 
be  two  very  interesting  things  to  have  happen 
right  before  our  eyes. 


NOTED    PEOPLE  115 

XXV 

NOTED  PEOPLE 

N  the  course  of  years  in  one  way  and  another 
a  great  many  noted  people  will  go  to  a 
small  town.  I  can  recall  dozens  of  men  and 
women  of  national  fame  whom  we  saw  while 
hving  in  Rock  Island.  I  want  to  tell  you  about 
one  or  two  of  these  with  whom  I  came  in  con- 
tact in  a  business  way,  and  whom  my  master 
enjoyed  very  much. 

I  remember  one  winter  Booth  was  in  Rock 
Island  in  his  private  car.  He  had  an  engage- 
ment of  one  night  at  Rock  Island  and  two 
nights  at  Davenport,  Sunday  intervening,  so 
that  his  car  lay  in  the  yard  near  my  master's 
house  from  Saturday  morning  until  Wednesday. 
Saturday  afternoon  my  master  was  called  to  the 
car.  I  noticed  how  excited  he  was,  as  I  had 
learned  that  he  was  especially  fond  of  Edwin 
Booth  and  his  wonderful  art.  We  drove  up  as 
near  as  we  could,  and  while  Master  was  tying 
me  Mr.  Booth  stepped  out  on  the  platform  of 
the  car  and  said: 


ii6  DON 

"I  believe  you  are  the  doctor.  Come  right 
in;    I  want  you  to  see  my  daughter." 

My  master  was  gone  a  long  time;  I  thought 
the  patient  must  be  very  sick,  but  when  he 
came  out  he  looked  too  pleased  and  happy  to 
have  been  where  anybody  was  seriously  ill.  I 
afterwards  heard  him  telling  the  Captain  down 
at  the  bank  what  a  pleasant  man  Mr.  Booth 
was  to  meet  face  to  face;  that  they  had  sat  to- 
gether in  the  library  of  the  car  and  talked  for 
more  than  half  an  hour,  Mr.  Booth  telling  the 
doctor  of  his  life  and  his  work.  We  went  there 
twice  every  day  after  that  until  the  car  left  the 
yards  on  the  next  Wednesday,  bound  for  Des 
Moines,  and  we  got  to  know  Mr.  Booth  and 
his  daughter  Edwina  very  well. 

Of  course  everybody,  as  I  have  heard  my 
master  say,  knew  Mr.  Booth  upon  the  stage 
as  a  great  actor,  knew  him  as  a  public  man; 
but  to  meet  him  in  his  home  and  see  him  about 
the  everyday  affairs  of  life  was  quite  another 
thing.  This  was  the  part  that  my  master  en- 
joyed so  much;  as  he  had  for  years  known 
Mr.    Booth    upon    the   stage,    had    seen    him    in 


NOTED    PEOPLE  117 

Hamlet  a  great  many  times,  and  was  very  anx- 
ious to  know  more  about  him  as  a  man,  I 
have  heard  him  tell  over  and  over  again  what 
a  delightful  lovable  man  Mr.  Booth  was  at 
home,  how  pleasantly  and  entertainingly  he 
talked  upon  almost  any  subject,  particularly 
upon  his  travels;  and  that,  while  the  world 
knew  him  mostly  in  tragedy  and  especially  upon 
the  saddest  side  of  life,  in  reality  he  was  a  genial, 
buoyant,  hopeful,  brilliant  man.  Those  great 
sad  eyes  that  the  public  knew  so  well  were, 
when  with  his  family  and  among  his  friends, 
full  of  sparkle  and  brightness  to  their  depths. 

What  I  have  told  you  about  Mr.  Booth  so 
far  is  really  but  a  repetition  of  what  my  master 
has  said;  but  I  myself  know  something  of  him: 
the  very  first  time  that  we  went  to  the  car  to 
see  Mr.  Booth,  as  he  stood  aside  to  let  the  doc- 
tor pass  in,  he  turned  and  looked  at  me  and  I 
heard  him  say  as  he  went  in:  "What  a  fine 
horse  you  have,  doctor.  His  eyes  and  head 
would  indicate  great  intelligence.  I  think  you 
•  must  have  in  him  a  fine  partner  in  your  busi- 
ness."    Every  time    after    that  when  we   went 


ii8  DON 

there,  Mr.  Booth  would  put  on  his  hat  and 
follow  the  doctor  out;  and  he  always  patted  me 
on  the  nose,  looked  into  my  eyes  and  talked  to 
me.  As  I  have  said  so  many  times  in  this 
book,  horses  do  appreciate  attention.  I  saw 
Mr.  Booth  but  a  few  times,  but  I  remember 
his  beautiful  kind  face,  and  his  great  loving 
eyes. 

One  of  the  first  long  drives  that  my  master 
and  mistress  and  I  ever  took  after  we  came  to 
Boston  was  that  most  beautiful  of  all  drives  — 
through  Franklin  Park,  the  Arboretum,  Ja- 
maica Pond  Park,  down  through  Brookline 
Park  into  the  Fenway,  over  Harvard  Bridge^ 
through  Cambridge  and  by  Harvard  College  up 
to  Mount  Auburn.  I  hadn't  taken  any  long 
drives  for  several  years,  and  I  was  wonderfully 
tired  when  we  got  to  Mount  Auburn,  but  I 
really  enjoyed  every  step  of  that  drive:  the 
beautiful  parks,  the  changing  and  varied  scen- 
ery, that  long  wide  bridge,  and  the  beautiful 
Charles  River.  I  enjoyed  hearing  my  master 
and  mistress  talk  about  Harvard  College  as  we 
passed  it.     We  drove  up  under  the  Washington 


NOTED    PEOPLE  119 

Elm,  and  by  the  Longfellow  House  to  the 
Lowell  Hous-e,  and  we  drove  through  Mount 
Auburn,  stopping  at  this  and  that  place.  I 
remember  many  of  ^the  graves  that  my  master 
and  mistress  visited;  but,  as  he  came  back 
from  one  (we  could  not  drive  quite  up  to  the 
spot),  he  said:  "Old  Don,  we  have  just  visited 
the  grave  of  your  old  friend  Edwin  Booth." 

Little  did  I  think,  when  I  saw  him  so  many 
times  in  Rock  Island,  Illinois,  that  I  should 
ever  live  in  Boston  and  be  in  historic  Mount 
Auburn  visiting  his  grave! 

Then  there  was  Camille  Urso,  a  noted  violin- 
ist, who  was  in  Rock  Island  for  several  days, 
giving  one  recital  at  the  Opera  House.  She 
stopped  at  the  Harper  House  and  my  master 
and  mistress  went  there  several  times  to  see  her. 
I  think  my  master  went  professionally,  as  she 
was  ill  for  a  few  days  while  in  the  city. 

I  remember  her  very  well,  for  my  master, 
mistress  and  myself  took  her  to  drive  one  day 
upon  the  Island.  I  never  shall  forget  the  ex- 
clamations of  pleasure  that  fell  from  her  lips 
as  we  drove  about  our  favorite  spots  upon  the 


I20  DON 

Island.  She  was  a  charming  lady,  and  I  have 
heard  my  master  say  a  remarkable  woman  in 
many  ways  as  well  as  one  of  the  finest  violinists 
of  her  time. 

But  I  think  of  all  the  prominent  people  that 
he  met  under  circumstances  similar  to  those  I 
have  been  describing,  he  enjoyed  more  than  any, 
General  and  Mrs.  Tom  Thumb  and  their  suite. 
They  came  to  Rock  Island  just  after  the  New- 
hall  House  in  Milwaukee  was  burned.  I  know  I 
heard  the  description  of  how  they  were  taken  out 
from  the  burning  hotel:  one  policeman  tucking 
the  General  under  his  arm  and  carrying  him 
down  the  ladder  while  another  took  Mrs.  Gen- 
eral down  in  the  same  way.  They  came  di- 
rectly from  Milwaukee  to  Rock  Island,  and  to 
the  Harper  House.  Of  course  they  were  a  good 
deal  wrought  up  and  disturbed  over  the  shock 
and  exposure,  and  were  both  quite  ill.  They 
remained  in  Rock  Island  for  a  week  or  ten  days, 
and  we  were  at  the  Harper  House  every  day 
and  some  days  twice  to  see  them. 

I  have  heard  my  master  describe  his  visits 
there.     None  of  the  party  was  ill  enough  to  be 


NOTED    PEOPLE  121 

in  bed.  He  said  the  General  would  stand 
against  his  khee  and  look  up  at  him,  his  face 
coming  only  a  little  above  Master's  knee;  and 
Mrs.  Tom  Thumb  would  sit  in  a  chair,  her  feet, 
straight  out  in  front  of  her,  coming  just  to  the 
edge  of  the  bottom  of  the  chair.  He  said  they 
were  very  interesting  people,  that  Mrs.  Tom 
Thumb  was  an  especially  intelligent,  interesting 
and  home-loving  little  woman. 

One  day  towards  the  end  of  their  stay,  as  we 
drove  out  to  the  Harper  House,  I  saw  what  I 
thought  were  some  little  children  coming  along 
across  Nineteenth  Street  from  Spencer  Square; 
and,  to  my  surprise,  as  the  doctor  jumped  out, 
he  took  off  his  hat,  put  out  his  hand  and  said, 
"Good  morning,  General  and  Mrs.  Tom 
Thumb."  And  there  they  were,  —  those  "little 
mites  of  children,"  the  General  and  his  wife,  — 
and  with  them  members  of  their  party! 

I  can  remember  Mrs.  Thumb  clapping  her 
hands  and  saying,  "Is  this  Old  Don.?"  and  she 
reached  up  as  high  as  she  could  and  tried  to 
touch  my  nose,  but  she  could  not.  My  master 
unchecked  me  and  made  me  put  my  head  down 


122  DON 

so  that  she  could  pat  my  nose.  Oh,  she  was  a 
dear  little  woman.  I  cannot  now  realize  that 
she  really  was  a  woman.  She  seemed  like  a 
little  girl;  and  yet  she  knew  so  much  and  was 
so  intelligent  that,  if  she  was  small,  she  must 
have  been  a  woman. 

I  have  heard  my  master  tell  stories  and  in- 
cidents that  she  had  related  to  him.  She 
showed  him  the  jewels  that  the  different  kings 
and  queens  of  Europe  had  given  her.  She 
wore  thousands  and  thousands  of  dollars  worth 
of  jewelry  that  had  been  presented  to  her  by 
various  prominent  people.  My  master  said 
the  diamonds  that  Barnum  gave  her  would  buy 
a  pretty  good  home  for  anybody.  It  seemed 
so  odd  to  see  the  General  (he  looked  like  a 
little  boy  not  over  six  or  seven  years  old)  with 
a  silk  hat  on,  smoking  a  big  cigar.  I  don't 
suppose  horses  laugh,  but  that  really  made  me 
laugh. 

One  year  a  Grand  Army  meeting  was  held  in 
Rock  Island;  I  think  it  was  not  the  national 
encampment,  but  a  large  and  important  meet- 
ing, and  among  the  guests  were  Generals  Sher- 


NOTED    PEOPLE  123 

man  and  Logan,  and  many  other  prominent  old 
soldiers.  I  remember  more  particularly  Sher- 
man and  Logan,  because  we  saw  them  several 
times.  The  first  time  I  was  standing  in  front 
of  the  Harper  House  with  my  master  when  the 
Captain  came  along  with  both  the  Generals. 
He  stopped  and  introduced  the  doctor  to  them, 
and  they  talked  some  minutes. 

I  remember  General  Sherman  particularly, 
because  during  the  conversation  he  patted  me 
on  my  back,  came  forward  and  looked  into  my 
eyes;  and  as  he  turned  away,  he  said  to  the 
Captain:  "There's  a  horse  that  would  have 
been  fine  in  battle.  He  never  would  have  gone 
wild,  and  taken  you  into  trouble.  You  could 
depend  upon  a  horse  like  that.  I  tell  you, 
Captain,  that  the  horses  in  these  big  battles 
are  many  times  as  important  as  the  men. 
There  are  horses  that  are  absolutely  no  good 
under  fire;  then  there  are  horses  that  are  as 
stanch  and  true  as  a  man  could  be,  and  never 
lose  their  heads.  I  think  Old  Don  here  as  you 
call  him  would  have  made  a  fine  war  horse." 

Then  he  came  and  looked   at  me  again  and 


124  DON 

exclaimed:  "Why!  he  is  a  Morgan!  He  comes 
from  the  finest  strain  of  horses  ever  in  this 
country." 

Logan  was  a  fine  looking  man.  I  can  see 
him  now,  that  erect  carriage,  and  his  large 
black  mustache.  I  liked  Sherman  best,  I  guess 
because  he  liked  me.  General  Logan  didn't 
say  anything  to  me  but  he  looked  pleased,  and 
assented  to  some  of  the  things  that  General 
Sherman  said  about  horses  in  war. 

Later  in  the  day  I  remember  we  met  the  two 
generals  again,  and  General  Sherman's  brother, 
the  Congressman  from  Iowa;  and  they  stopped 
again.  General  Sherman  introducing  my  master 
to  his  brother,  and  again  the  General  patted 
me  and  went  oflP  into  a  long  dissertation  about 
horses  in  war.  Among  some  of  the  things  that 
the  General  said  I  remember  particularly  were 
how  cruel  was  war  to  horses,  how  much  they 
suffered;  it  was  an  item  in  the  expensiveness  of 
war  that  people  rarely  figured  on,  —  the  great 
and  intense  suffering  that  was  inflicted  upon 
horses  in  battle,  and  the  excessive  hardships 
in    long    forced    marches    across    country,  over 


BESS   STOPS  THE  RUNAWAY     125 

mountains  and  through  swamps,  poorly  fed  and 
overworked.  He  said  if  the  suffering  of  all 
the  horses  were  added  to  the  suffering  of  all  the 
men,  the  aggregate  would  be  almost  double. 

I  have  heard  my  master  say  that  he  believed 
General  Sherman  included  horses  with  men 
when  he  said:  "War  is  Hell!" 


XXVI 

BESS  STOPS   THE  RUNAWAY 

HAVE  spoken  several  times  of  the  high 
order  of  intelligence  of  animals,  and  I  have 
said  that  I  thought  they  must  use  some  of 
the  same  reasoning  power  —  in  a  limited  degree 
of  course  —  that  man  uses;  and  that  they  rea- 
son from  cause  to  effect  in  much  the  same  way 
and  must  of  necessity  know  the  results  from  a 
certain  Hne  of  action.  What  I  am  about  to 
relate  is  literally  true  and  happened  in  every 
detail  just  as  I  tell  it,  and  shows  reasoning 
intelligence. 

I  have  said  before  that  from  the  time  I  was 


126  DON 

seven  years  old  my  master  always  had  other 
horses,  as  I  had  contracted  rheumatism  in  Rock 
Island  from  driving  about  and  standing  so  much 
in  the  wet  muddy  streets  before  Rock  Island 
was  paved.  One  of  these  horses  which  came  to 
help  me  in  my  work  was  Jetty.  When  my  mas- 
ter first  got  Jetty  in  1890,  she  was  well  broken 
and  was  really  a  perfectly  safe  horse;  but  my 
master,  who  had  been  used  to  me  and  I  to  him, 
was  not  safe  to  drive  Jetty  because  he  was 
careless.  I  have  heard  my  master  say  this  him- 
self, and  it  will  be  borne  out  by  the  following 
story.  While  I  was  not  an  eye-witness,  I 
know  of  every  detail  from  having  heard  my 
master  tell  it,  from  Jetty  and  from  Bess,  who 
repeatedly  told  me  her  part  of  it. 

One  morning  my  master  had  Jetty  out  mak- 
ing calls.  He  had  been  on  a  long  round  with 
her.  The  last  call  was  at  Mr.  Staubach's, 
corner  of  Fourth  Avenue  and  Fifteenth  Street. 
It  was  after  the  noon  hour;  Jetty  was  naturally 
nervous  and  my  master  tired  and  worried  as  he 
came  out  of  the  house  where  he  had  a  little  boy 
very  ill.     When  stopping  on  the  street  in  Rock 


BESS  STOPS  THE  RUNAWAY     127 

Island,  as  I  have  said,  we  always  tied  to  a  post 
with  a  strap  from  the  bit.  The  doctor,  after 
untying,  chirruped  Jetty,  as  he  always  had  when 
driving  me,  to  step  over  and  cramp  the  buggy. 
Jetty  stepped  over  in  her  nervous,  quick  way; 
and,  just  as  my  master  stepped  in  between  the 
wheels  to  climb  into  the  buggy,  she  started 
ahead,  catching  my  master  between  the  wheels 
and  throwing  him  down.  The  noise,  the  jar 
or  something  frightened  Jetty  and  she  started 
to  run,  the  carriage  passing  over  my  master 
and  causing  him  to  turn  a  complete  somersault 
in   the   street. 

As  he  partly  righted  himself,  he  saw  Bess 
about  two  hundred  feet  behind,  setting  some 
birds.  At  that  moment  she  espied  the  catas- 
trophe, saw  our  master  lying  nearly  prostrate 
in  the  street  and  the  horse  running  away,  and 
seemed  to  take  in  the  situation  at  a  glance. 
I  have  heard  my  master  say  many  times  that 
she  started  instantly  at  her  fastest  gait  after 
the  horse.  As  she  came  opposite  my  master 
he  tried  to  stop  her,  thinking  that  she  would 
frighten  Jetty  more  and  make  conditions  worse; 


128  DON 

but  Bess  paid  no  attention  to  his  voice,  which 
seemed  strange  to  Master  as  she  was  a  very 
biddable  dog,  always  obeying  at  once.  This 
time  she  kept  on  faster  and  still  faster  after 
Jetty. 

My  master  pulled  himself  together,  got  on 
his  feet  and  hurried  as  fast  as  he  could  in  the 
direction  that  the  horse  and  dog  were  going.  In 
three  blocks  (a  thousand  feet)  Bess  caught  up 
with  Jetty.  My  master  hadn't  the  shghtest 
idea  she  would  try  to  stop  Jetty;  he  could  not 
at  the  moment  reason  out  any  way  in  which 
Bess  could  stop  her.  Neither  has  he  since  that 
time  found  anyone  who  could  devise  a  rea- 
sonable plan  for  a  dog  to  stop  a  runaway  horse 
in  a  carriage  and  under  the  circumstances. 
Nevertheless,  in  much  less  time  than  it  has 
taken  to  describe  it,  Bess  had  formed  her  plans 
completely  from  start  to  finish,  and  when  she 
reached  Jetty,  proceeded  to  carry  them  out. 

What  did  she  do.?  She  ran  ahead  of  Jetty 
just  fast  enough  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  her 
forward  feet,  turning  round  and  looking  into  her 
face   and    yet   springing   each    time   far   enough 


BESS   STOPS  THE   RUNAWAY    129 

ahead  so  that  the  horse's  flying  feet  did  not  hit 
her;  but  in  the  meantime  the  horse  had  seen 
and  recognized  the  dog,  did  not  want  to  hit  her, 
was  afraid  she  would,  hence  went  more  slowly; 
and  as  she  went  more  slowly  so  did  Bess.  Soon 
she  was  trotting  instead  of  running;  still  the 
dog  was  right  between  her  forward  feet  and  she 
could  not  keep  that  gait  without  stepping  on 
Bess,  and  to  avoid  doing  so  she  went  even  more 
slowly  until  she  was  walking.  But  Bess  hung 
to  her  post  and  poor  Jetty  had  nothing  to  do 
but  stop,  which  she  did  within  six  hundred  feet 
of  the  place  where  the  dog  first  overtook  her. 

When  my  master  came  up  two  or  three  min- 
utes later  his  surprise  and  admiration  knew 
no  bounds.  There  was  a  crowd  of  fifty  people 
collected  about  the  horse  and  dog;  many  of 
them,  most  of  them,  had  seen  the  runaway  and 
the  stopping  of  the  horse  from  the  start.  There 
were  more  than  twenty  of  the  people  that  fully 
understood  just  what  Bess  had  done.  As  my 
master  arrived  on  the  scene,  she  sat  in  front  of 
Jetty,  about  six  feet  away,  looking  her  in  the 
face. 


I30  DON 

Of  course  by  this  time  Jetty's  fright  had 
passed,  and  she  had  apparently  forgotten  that 
she  had  ever  even  tried  to  run  away.  Bess 
seemed  full  of  elation  over  the  result  of  her 
daring  and  heroic  act;  and  as  my  master  patted 
her  and  talked  to  her,  she  showed  her  delight 
as  only  Bess  could,  jumping  about,  giving  little 
short  sharp  barks,  her  whole  body  quivering 
with  joy:  I  full  well  remember  that  day  and 
how  excited  she  was  when  she  came  in  with 
Jetty  and  my  master. 


XXVII 

HORSES  I  HAVE   KNOWN,   AND      , 
THEIR   PECULIARITIES 

T  is  odd  when  I  come  to  think  of  it  how 
few  intimate  acquaintances  I  have  had  in 
a  long  life  among  my  kind;  although  when 
you  reason  it  out  it  naturally  would  be  so.  A 
horse  is  very  closely  confined  at  home  or  to 
business.  He  does  not  get  a  chance  to  go  out 
and    mingle    with    other    horses,    and    to    frolic 


HORSES    I    HAVE    KNOWN    131 

and  run  and  play  and  have  good  times  as  men 
do.  So  we  horses  with  a  mission  know  few 
other  horses  intimately. 

When  I  began  to  write  this  book,  I  thought 
1  knew  ever  so  many  horses,  and  I  was  going 
to  tell  a  lot  about  them;  but  I  have  counted 
up  lately  and  I  don't  believe  I  have  known  in 
all  my  life  thirty  horses  intimately  enough  to 
say  that  they  were  personal  friends  of  mine.  If 
a  man  said  that  it  would  argue  against  him; 
I  don't  think  that  it  does  against  a  horse.  A 
horse  attends  so  strictly  to  business  that  he 
practically  knows  only  his  stable  mates. 

Most  of  the  horses  I  have  known  I  have  met 
in  the  livery  stable  of  which  I  have  spoken 
before.  There  was  Dick  Eyster,  a  queer, 
jolly  horse;  I  think  I  have  heard  my  master 
say  he  was  iron-gray.  He  was  short  and  stocky, 
but  he  could  go  some.  Dick  Eyster's  master 
was  a  physician  who  lived  near  us,  so  I  saw 
Dick  nearly  every  day,  used  to  meet  him  on 
the  road.  I  presume  I  ought  not  to  say  it  —  I 
rarely  ever  passed  him:  Dick  was  such  a 
"goer"!    I   have  that  one  thing  to  say  of  my 


132  DON 

master:  he  never  cared  if  horses  passed  us, 
and  he  never  tried  to  pass  teams  that  were 
going  very  fast.  I  have  seen  horses  whipped  up 
and  made  to  pass  others;  I  don't  beheve  that  is 
altogether  the  best  thing  to  do. 

You  may  Hke  to  know  that  after  Dick  had 
been  a  doctor's  horse  for  a  great  many  years, 
he  got  a  nail  in  his  foot  and  had  lock-jaw. 
You  can  imagine  the  rest.  I  remember  the 
last  time  I  saw  him.  He  was  in  the  doctor's 
yard,  lame  and  sick. 

Then  there  was  Bismarck  Gault.  He  was 
also  a  doctor's  horse.  Bismarck  was  the  old 
horse;  the  doctor  had  a  span,  fine  young  step- 
pers, but  Bismarck  was  the  one  that  seemed  to 
give  the  place  character  and  standing.  I  don't 
mean  of  course  to  detract  from  the  doctor  him- 
self; he  was  one  of  the  finest  looking  men  in 
Rock  Island,  and  very  popular.  Bismarck  was 
always  very  proud  when  he  was  taking  the 
doctor  about.  He  was  not  sociable;  he  was  a 
good  deal  older  than  I,  and  rarely  ever  spoke 
to  me,  but  I  always  admired  him  and  thought 
what  an  easy  time  he  had,  as  he  only  had  to 


HORSES    I    HAVE    KNOWN     133 

go  out  every  other  day.  Bismarck  had  a  proud, 
austere  lookj  but  was  always  attending  to 
business.  I  don't  think  there  was  a  horse  in 
my  neighborhood  that  had  more  influence  in 
forming  my  character  than  Bismarck  had:  he 
lived  one  block  from  me,  and  I  saw  him  almost 
every  day.  I  heard  my  master  once  say  jok- 
ingly that,  being  the  namesake  of  so  great  a 
personage,  Bismarck  had  to  be  about  right  to 
live  up  to  his  name;  and  that  he  truly  came 
nearer  to  it  than  would  seem  possible. 

Jack  Plummer,  another  doctor's  horse,  was 
one  of  the  good  old  substantial  kind.  He  has 
worn  many  holes  in  the  pavements  in  front  of 
the  drug  store.  His  master  was  a  railroad 
surgeon,  and  always  seemed  to  be  a  great  deal 
at  the  drug  stores;  and  yet  I  would  meet  Jack 
every  day  somewhere  about  the  city  visiting 
the  doctor's   patients. 

Prince  and  Dick  Robinson  were  the  Captain's 
horses.  I  think  I  have  told  you  that  he  was 
a  banker,  and  either  one  or  the  other,  rarely 
both  together,  would  be  at  the  bank  to  bring 
the  Captain  there  or  to  take  him  away.     They 


134  DON 

didn't  have  to  work  very  hard,  but  were  used 
more  for  pleasure  driving;  and  I  shall  have  to 
say  as  I  did  about  Dick  Eyster,  that  they  often 
passed  me  but  I  never  passed  them. 

In  making  these  confessions,  however,  I  do 
not  want  to  seem  too  modest;  for  I  could  go 
some    myself. 


XXVIII 
THE  REUNION 

HAVE  heard  it  said  that  folks  usually  have 
a  seedy,  sickly  time  along  about  the  middle 
of  their  lives:  they  are  not  so  well,  not  so 
happy  and  perhaps  not  so  prosperous.  Well, 
I  guess  this  must  be  so  with  horses,  because  the 
years  when  I  was  twelve,  thirteen,  fourteen  and 
fifteen  were  rather  unhappy  ones.  My  master's 
health  again  gave  out.  He  had  worked  so  hard; 
there  had  been  so  much  grip  in  Rock  Island, 
Davenport  and  Moline,  and  so  much  diph- 
theria, that  he  had  worked  himself  almost  to 
a  shadow. 


THE    REUNION  135 

I  remember  one  day  we  drove  to  Moline, 
and  my  master  went  in  to  see  one  of  his  good 
friends,  Dr.  Wessel.  He  stayed  a  long  time  and 
when  he  came  out,  I  heard  Dr.  Wessel  say  as 
my  master  got  into  the  buggy;  "Mein  Gott! 
If  you  don't  quit  this  vork  and  take  a  rest,  you 
vill  be  soon  deat!"  Master  said  that  when  the 
doctor  was  excited  or  very  earnest,  he  always 
resumed  his  German  accent. 

I  had  been  in  the  profession  so  long  that  I 
fully  understood  what  Dr.  Wessel  meant,  and 
I  could  not  get  over  worrying  about  my  master's 
health.  I  really  was  not  happy  for  a  single  day 
after  that  until  I  took  the  long  trip  with  my 
master,  about  which  I  am  shortly  going  to  tell 
you. 

The  doctor  left  Rock  Island  in  November, 
1892.  I  remember  that  so  well:  he  looked  so 
thin  I  was  afraid  I  should  never  see  him  again. 
He  left  me  at  a  livery  stable  with  Gibson;  and 
his  brother,  who  took  the  doctor's  place  in  the 
office,  drove  me  sometimes  but  not  often.  He 
never  liked  to  drive  me  because,  as  I  have  told 
you,  I  had  suffered  much  from  rheumatism  and 


136  DON 

could  not  go  as  I  used  to  when  I  was  a  colt. 
So  I  had  an  easy  time  and  when  I  didn't  think 
of  my  master  was  fairly  happy  in  the  stable, 
as  Gibson  was  always  kind  to  me.  He  fed  me 
well,  groomed  me  and  took  good  care  of  me. 

I  have  been,  on  and  off,  considerably  about 
livery  stables,  and  I  believe  in  the  main  the  men 
in  the  stables  treat  horses  well.  I  have  heard 
people  say  that  they  don't  feed  them  enough, 
that  they  steal  the  feed  away  from  them.  I 
don't  believe  Gibson  ever  did  that;  I  don't 
believe  men  often  do  it.  I  have  found  that 
men  around  livery  stables  are  generally  pretty 
kind-hearted  and  good  to  horses;  and,  while 
I  should  much  prefer  to  stay  at  home  with  my 
own  family,  still  I  was  comparatively  happy  at 
the  livery  stable. 

How  well  I  remember  the  day  that  the  doctor 
returned  to  Rock  Island  after  an  absence  of 
nearly  a  year!  I  was  going  down  Second 
Avenue.  A  lady  was  driving  me.  I  happened 
to  look  up,  and  walking  along  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street  was  my  master.  My  heart  beat 
so  fast  for  just  a  second  I  couldn't  move;    then 


A    SURGICAL    PATIENT     137 

I  walked  right  over  to  him.  The  lady  could  not 
hold  or  guide  me  until  I  got  to  my  master  and 
put  my  head  on  his  shoulder.  I  heard  him 
say  afterwards  I  cried.  I  don't  know  that  a 
horse  can  cry,  but  I   felt  happy  enough  to  cry. 


XXIX 

BESS  AS  A   SURGICAL   PATIENT 

"^  HAVE  told  you  about  Bess  being  poisoned, 
how  hard  my  master  worked  to  bring  her 
back  to  life,  and  that  she  did  recover,  but 
was  never  quite  her  old  self.  She  was  the  same 
loving,  affectionate  dog,  and  w^ent  about  with 
me  a  great  deal,  ran  and  played  much  as  before, 
but  was  a  little  lame.  What  men  call  the  nigh 
hind  foot  dragged  a  little.  I  have  heard  my 
master  say  it  was  because  of  the  partial  pa- 
ralysis brought  about  by  the  effects  of  the 
strychnine    poisoning. 

As  time  went  on  this  lameness  rather  in- 
creased than  diminished;  and  one  day  the 
doctor,    in    examining    her    to    see   why    it   was 


138  DON 

getting  worse,  discovered  a  slight  tumor  in  the 
muscles  of  the  abdomen  near  the  left  leg. 
From  that  time  it  seemed  to  grow  rapidly. 
While  my  master  was  away  from  Rock  Island, 
previous  to  his  moving  to  Boston,  this  tumor 
grew  steadily,  and  when  he  returned  to  take  us 
all  east  with  him,  it  had  developed  into  a  large 
growth,  half  as  large  as  her  head.  The  doctor 
consulted  with  other  physicians,  his  brother  and 
Dr.  Arp  of  Moline,  and  they  decided  that  it 
would  shortly  take  her  life  if  it  were  not 
removed. 

So  my  master  arranged  for  an  operation  one 
day  and,  with  the  assistance  of  several  other 
physicians,  removed  the  growth.  He  was  very 
much  afraid  to  operate,  because,  I  heard  him  say, 
animals  —  and  especially  dogs  —  do  not  take 
ether  so  well  as  men.  A  dog  is  very  liable  to 
die  from  the  effects  of  the  anesthetic.  But  Bess 
took  it  very  well,  and  the  operation  was  suc- 
cessful; I  heard  my  master  say  it  was  one  of 
the  bloodiest  he  ever  attempted  to  perform. 
The  tumor,  after  it  was  removed,  weighed  five 
pounds. 


IN    A    PRIVATE    CAR         139 

I  didn't  see  Bess  for  three  days.  At  the  end 
of  that  time  she  came  to  the  stable,  and  seemed 
very  much  as  usual,  didn't  hmp  as  badly  as 
before.  I  could  see  that  she  was  all  tied  up 
in  white  bandages,  but  she  seemed  very  natural 
and  happy  and  lively.  Perhaps  you  would  not 
believe  that  a  patient  could  be  out  in  three 
days  after  such  a  serious  operation;  but  I 
have  heard  Master  say  that  dogs  recover  much 
more  rapidly  than  people.  Anyway,  the  facts 
of  the  case  are  that  she  was  out  and  stayed 
in  the  stable  all  of  the  time  after  the  third  day, 
and  was  soon  nearly  well.  This  was  just  before 
we  started  on  our  long  and  memorable  journey. 

XXX 

A    THOUSAND  MILES  IN  A 
PRIVATE   CAR 

A   WONDERFUL   TRIP   ACROSS    COUNTRY 

ANYONE    reading    the    heading    of    this 
chapter  might  stop  there  and   think  I 
was    telling   that   which   was   not   true, 
or  that   I,   the  horse,   had   stopped   relating  his 


I40  DON 

life  experiences,  and  someone  else  had  taken 
up  the  story  at  this  point;  but  I  am  still  at 
the  helm  and  am  now  about  to  acquaint  my 
readers  with  what  to  me  has  been  the  most 
wonderful  chapter  in  my  whole  life's  history,  — 
my  famous  trip  in  a  private  car  in  December, 
1895,  from  Rock  Island,  Illinois,  to  Boston, 
Massachusetts. 

I  really  think  I  had  felt  all  of  the  time  since 
my  master  returned  to  Rock  Island,  on  Nov, 
14,  1895,  that  something  unusual,  very  unusual, 
was  going  to  happen.  During  the  days  and 
weeks  preceding  our  start  my  master  seemed 
especially  kind  and  attentive  to  me:  when  he 
came  into  my  stable  he  patted  and  caressed  me 
more  even  than  usual,  although  he  had  always 
paid  a  great  deal  of  attention  to  me  all  of  my  life. 
As  the  days  went  by,  there  seemed  to  be  an 
unaccountable  something,  I  can  hardly  de- 
scribe it,  in  the  atmosphere.  I  felt  a  peculiar 
nervousness  all  through  my  system.  My 
master  seemed  preoccupied,  my  master's  brother 
acted  differently  towards  him;  and,  in  short,  I 
felt    that    we    were    about    to    do    something 


IN    A    PRIVATE    CAR         141 

strange,  I  did  not  understand  and  could  not 
tell  what. 

I  don't  know  why  my  master  hadn't  told  me 
about  it.  Possibly  he  had  spoken  of  it  in  my 
presence  and  I  had  not  understood.  Anyway, 
I  didn't  know  just  what  was  going  to  happen 
until  the  morning  of  the  12th  of  December. 
When  my  master  and  his  brother  came  ihto  the 
stable,  I  felt  fully  convinced  that  something 
would  take  place  that  day  different  from  any- 
thing that  had  ever  come  into  my  life,  and  I 
paid  particular  attention  to  what  was  said. 
They  were  talking  about  the  "start,"  about 
the  "car,"  about  the  "hour  that  the  train 
would  leave";    and  then  Frank  said: 

"When  are  you  going  to  take  Don  down  to 
the  car?" 

Master  patted  me  on  the  hips,  came  in  be- 
side me  and  stroked  my  nose  and  said:  "Well, 
Old  Don,  you  are  going  to  leave  Rock  Island. 
This  is  your  last  day.  Aren't  you  sorry?" 
Although  I  did  not  fully  appreciate  the  purport 
of  his  words,  my  heart  gave  a  great  throb,  and 
I    felt    almost    ill,    when    I    heard    him    say    to 


142  DON 

Frank,    "We    must    take    Don    to    the    car    by 
four  o'clock  because  the  train  leaves  at  six." 

From  that  time  all  was  hurry  and  bustle. 
Things  were  being  taken  down^  to  the  car,  my 
harness  and  blankets  and  all  of  the  things  in 
the  stable  that  belonged  to  my  people;  and  at 
four  o'clock  my  master  and  his  brother  came  to 
the  stable,  hitched  up  Nellie  (I  have  spoken  of 
Nellie  as  belonging  to  Dr.  Frank)  and  led  me 
behind  the  carriage  out  of  the  stable,  out  of  the 
grounds,  into  the  street.  Dr.  Frank  then  lived 
on  Twenty-Third  Street;  how  well  I  remember 
my  last  look  at  that  street  and  his  house!  We 
went  down  to  Fourth  Avenue,  along  Fourth 
Avenue  to  Twentieth  Street,  down  Twentieth 
Street  to  Second  Avenue,  and  down  Second 
Avenue,  where  I  had  been  so  many  times  be- 
fore, to  Eighteenth  Street.  Turning  in  there 
for  a  moment  the  boys  went  into  the  office 
and  came  out  with  their  hands  full  of  articles 
which  the  doctor  had  failed  to  put  into  the  car. 
Back  into  the  carriage,  they  turned  round  into 
Second  Avenue  again  and  I  took  my  last  look 
at    Eighteenth    Street    and    the    place   where    I 


IN    A    PRIVATE    CAR         143 

stood  all  night  on  two  different  occasions,  the 
place  that  I  knew  better  than  any  other  place 
in  the  world,  as  that  had  been  my  constant 
headquarters  when  in  the  harness  for  all  of  the 
years  that  I  lived  in  Rock  Island,  —  down 
Second  Avenue  by  the  business  blocks  and  the 
banks  and  down  Seventeenth  Street  to  the 
depot.  And  then  I  thought  my  troubles  had 
just   begun! 

I  didn't  understand  what  was  going  to  be 
done.  I  was  led  up  on  a  high  platform  and 
along  beside  a  box  car.  I  had  seen  box  cars 
at  a  distance  a  great  many  times,  but  I  had 
never  been  so  close  to  one.  The  big  side  door 
was  open  and  my  master  stepped  in  and  wanted 
me  to  follow.  I  hesitated,  but  just  then  Frank 
came  along  and  said,  "Go  on,  Old  Don,  it's 
perfectly  safe."  I  tremblingly  stepped  over  the 
bridge  built  from  the  platform  to  the  car  and 
into  the  car,  which  was  to  be  my  home  for  the 
next  four  days. 

As  soon  as  I  became  accustomed  to  the  light 
I  could  see  many  famihar  things,  I  occupied 
the  middle  portion  of  the  car  between  the  two 


144  DON 

side  doors,  which  made  a  large  box  stall  —  a 
very  comfortable  place,  plenty  of  straw  on  the 
floor,  so  much  that  I  could  not  feel  the  floor  at 
all.  At  the  left  of  me  were  piled  almost  as 
high  as  my  back  bags  full  of  corn  and  oats. 
As  I  remember  it  now,  there  were  fifty  bushels 
of  corn  and  fifty  of  oats.  On  my  right  were 
bales  of  hay,  a  couple  or  three  tons,  not  piled 
so  high  as  the  corn  on  the  other  side,  but  com- 
ing up  about  as  high  as  my  body. 

The  top  of  the  baled  hay  was  nice  and  level 
and  on  this  my  master  was  to  live  during  the 
trip.  He  had  a  carpet  spread  over  it,  and  on  it 
an  easy  chair,  a  couch  and  a  table.  Under  the 
table  was  Bess.  Everything  seemed  to  be  ar- 
ranged for  my  master's  comfort  and  conven- 
ience, and  for  Bess's  comfort  and  mine. 

In  the  far  ends  of  the  car  were  stored  all  of 
the  eff"ects  of  our  household  and  barn:  furni- 
ture, books  and  everything  which  my  people 
owned  in  the  line  of  personal  property. 

I  was  looking  about  noting  all  these  things, 
when  I  started  in  sudden  fright,  for  my  master 
stepped  out  and  closed  the  door,  and  I  thought 


IN    A    PRIVATE    CAR         145 

he  was  going  to  leave  me.  He  happened  to 
think  of  me  just  then  and  putting  his  head 
back  he  reached  in  and  stroked  my  nose  and 
said,  "Don't  be  afraid,  Don,  I  shall  be  back 
in  a  few  minutes,"  —  and  they  were  gone. 

In  a  very  short  time  my  master  and  his 
brother  did  come  back.  They  had  been  to 
attend  to  the  last  few  things  that  my  master 
had  to  do,  and  to  take  Nellie  back  to  the  stable, 
because,  as  I  soon  learned,  my  master's  brother 
was  going  with  us.  They  had  been  in  the  car 
but  a  few  minutes  when  the  train  pulled  out  of 
the  station.  As  we  went  across  the  ferry  land- 
ing, looking  up  Eighteenth  Street  I  caught  just 
a  glimpse,  through  a  crack  in  the  door,  of  all  of 
the  old  scenes.  We  were  soon  going  up  under 
the  viaduct  and  through  the  lumber  yards 
by  the  Rock  Island  station  and  shortly  were 
pulling  up  through  Moline. 

I  wondered  where  Dr.  Frank  was  going,  and 
my  curiosity  was  satisfied  when  we  got  just  a 
little  above  Moline:  the  train  stopped,  my 
master  opened  the  door,  Frank  said  a  hasty 
goodby   and   jumped    out   to   take   the   electrics 


146  DON 

home  —  and  we  three  were  alone  to  continue 
the  journey  that  we  had  so  auspiciously  started. 

This  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  been  in  a 
car  or  on  the  railroad.  At  first  I  was  afraid, 
but  I  soon  got  used  to  the  motion  and  the  jar, 
and  began  to  feel  safer  because  my  master  was 
there  and  I  saw  that  he  was  not  afraid. 

I  started  this  chapter  by  speaking  of  a  pri- 
vate car.  Well,  this  was  a  private  car  in  every 
sense  of  the  word.  We  owned  the  car  outright 
during  those  days  that  we  occupied  it.  It  was 
our  private  property  as  much  as  is  a  house  the 
property  of  the  man  who  rents  it  to  live  in, 
and  we  were  very  comfortable. 

I  did  not  understand  then,  but  I  did  before 
the  journey  was  over,  that  I  stood  the  wrong 
way  of  the  car.  My  new  stall  was  so  made 
that  I  had  to  stand  crosswise  and  was  facing 
one  side  door  with  back  to  the  other:  as  we 
came  east,  I  was  facing  south.  It  would  have 
been  much  easier  for  me  had  I  stood  facing 
east.  The  jar  and  sudden  stops  and  bumping 
of  the  car  and  train  would  not  have  so  nearly 
thrown  me  down  so  many  times;    but,   as  the 


IN    A    PRIVATE    CAR         147 

car  was  packed  with  the  bags  of  grain  on  one 
side  and  the  bales  of  hay  on  the  other,  and 
such  a  depth  of  straw  underneath  me,  I  don't 
know  that  it  would  have  hurt  me  much  if  I 
had  been  thrown  down.     But  I  was  not. 

The  first  night  was  pretty  hard.  We  ran 
fast  all  of  the  way  from  Rock  Island  to  Chicago, 
so  that  by  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
we  were  in  the  Illinois  Central  yards  in  Chi- 
cago. We  stopped  there  several  hours.  My 
master  wakened  many  times  during  the  night, 
and  every  time  he  put  his  hand  over  on  my 
back,  and  that  reassured  me.  I  never  felt  so 
close  to  my  master  before.  We  were  out  in 
the  great  big  world  all  alone  together,  just  we 
three.  There  was  such  a  sense  of  oneness  be- 
tween us  that  I  was  quite  happy. 

And  Bess!  I  never  saw  her  so  happy  and  so 
contented.  A  dozen  times  a  day  she  would 
get  down  from  the  platform,  where  she  stayed 
with  the  doctor,  and  snifF  round  my  feet  and 
nose  and  talk  to  me  the  way  Bess  had  of  talk- 
ing: and  then  she  would  go  back  up  under  the 
table  and  he  down  perfectly  satisfied. 


148  DON 

Now  that  we  were  fully  started  on  our  jour- 
ney, perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  how  we 
lived.  It  was  right  in  the  middle  of  winter  and 
very  cold,  but  we  were  not  cold.  Ours  was 
merely  a  box  car,  both  ends  filled  with  house- 
hold effects,  and  near  where  I  stood,  as  I  have 
said,  were  the  grain  and  the  hay,  so  that  we 
three  occupied  a  little  room  right  in  the  middle 
of  the  car.  The  doctor  before  we  started  had 
tacked  up  heavy  portieres  and  strips  of  carpet, 
thus  entirely  partitioning  off  from  us  each  end 
of  the  car,  the  parts  filled  with  furniture;  and 
we  had  just  that  middle  section  all  snug  and 
close  by  ourselves,  so  there  was  not  much 
space  to  warm.  As  we  kept  the  car  shut  up 
all  of  the  time  except  when  Master  went  on 
some  errand,  very  little  cold  came  in,  and  the 
doctor  had  upon  the  platform  where  he  and 
Bess  stayed  a  little  oil-stove  that  he  kept  going 
nearly  all  the  time.  I  think  he  was  afraid  of 
that  stove  because  he  watched  it  very  closely 
when  it  was  burning.  I  heard  his  brother 
caution  him  the  last  thing: 

*'Be  careful  of  the  stove,"  he  said,  "because 


IN    A    PRIVATE    CAR         149 

you  have  hay  in  here  and  if  it  should  get  afire, 
you  would  all  burn  up  before  anybody  could 
get  you  out  of  the  car." 

Anyway,  the  stove  ran  a  great  deal  of  the 
time  except  when  the  doctor  was  sleeping,  and 
he  also  had  several  lanterns.  Those  were  se- 
curely fastened  up  around  the  room  in  which 
we  stayed,  and  they  gave  us  light  and  a  good 
deal  of  heat.  So,  altogether,  while  the  tem- 
perature of  the  car  was  not  high,  it  was  way 
above  freezing  point  and  fairly  comfortable. 

Of  course  I  had  plenty  to  eat  as  the  car  was 
partly  loaded  with  food  for  me,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  the  corn  tasted  unusually  good  on  that  jour- 
ney. I  was  hungry  all  the  time.  In  those  days 
my  master  always  fed  me  corn  on  the  cob,  and 
nothing  ever  tasted  quite  so  good  to  me,  except 
the  green  grass  that  I  used  to  have  when  I  was 
a  colt,  as  that  nice  western  corn  on  the  cob. 
He  got  the  water  for  me  two  or  three  times  a 
day.  When  the  train  stopped  for  some  pur- 
pose or  other,  my  master  would  get  down  out 
of  the  car  and  run  forward  to  the  engine  for  a 
pail  of  water.     So  you  see  we  not  only  had  a 


I50  DON 

private  car,  we  also  had  a  dining  car,  as  my 
master  and  Bess  lived  and  ate  right  there  with  me. 

My  master  carried  a  great  quantity  of  food 
for  himself  and  Bess.  When  I  think  of  it  I 
can  almost  hear  Bess  now  crunching  chicken 
bones.  Chicken  bones  were  a  favorite  dish 
with  her.  She  didn't  go  about  the  neighbor- 
hood much  stealing  things  from  the  back  doors, 
but  I  think  Bess  could  not  resist  chicken  bones. 
When  we  were  making  calls  together  I  remem- 
ber seeing  her  tip  over  the  garbage  barrels  in 
the  alleys  looking  for  chicken  bones. 

My  master  read  and  slept  a  great  deal,  in 
fact  was  lying  on  the  couch  most  of  the  time 
unless  he  was  doing  something  for  me  or  pre- 
paring his  own  food,  and  I  have  heard  him  say 
how  much  he  rested  on  that  trip.  You  see  we 
did  not  know  night  from  day  in  there  unless 
we  opened  the  door,  because  of  course  in  a 
box  car  there  are  no  windows. 

I  remember  once,  —  we  had  been  going  a 
long  time,  the  doctor  had  been  asleep,  it  was 
dark  and  the  train  was  moving  along  steadily 
without  a   stop,  —  I  thought  the  doctor  would 


IN    A    PRIVATE    CAR         151 

never  wake  up  and  give  me  some  water  and 
something  to  eat;  but  finally  he  did.  He 
jumped  up  and  rubbed  his  eyes  and  said,  "Well, 
Don,  I  guess  I  overslept."  He  had  a  pail  of 
water  there  and  he  gave  me  a  drink  and  some 
corn;  Bess  got  up  and  indicated  that  she  was 
hungry,  and  my  master  lighted  the  kerosene 
stove  and  began  to  prepare  his  own  dinner.  I 
remember  that  he  prepared  a  very  elaborate 
dinner  —  hot  tea,  and  warmed  up  some  of  his 
food,  cold  chicken,  bread  and  butter,  mince 
pie!    and  a  lot  of  things. 

He  was  a  long  time  eating  and  when  he  got 
through  and  was  clearing  the  table,  he  happened 
to  take  out  his  watch  and  look  at  it,  and  what 
do  you  think.?  It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing! So  you  can  see  that  we  Hterally  did  not 
know  night  from  day. 

We  were  delayed  in  Chicago  that  morning 
until  nearly  noon.  My  master  got  quite  ex- 
cited because  he  thought  they  were  going  to 
leave  our  car  there  until  night,  and  we  should 
have  to  go  on  another  train.  Two  or  three 
officials   came   and    talked    with    him    about   it; 


152  DON 

but,  as  he  insisted  so  strongly,  our  car  finally 
left  in  its  place  and  we  pulled  out  in  the  train 
that  we  started  with. 

Things  were  rather  monotonous  all  that  after- 
noon. Going  down  through  South  Chicago  and 
out  across  Indiana  into  Michigan,  we  did  not 
get  to  the  tunnel  under  the  St.  Clair  River 
until  in  the  night,  and  my  master  was  asleep; 
but  just  as  the  train  began  to  run  down  the 
incline  approaching  the  tunnel,  he  awoke  and 
jumping  up  exclaimed,  "Don!  we  are  way 
down,  fifty  feet  under  water!" 

I  remember  a  peculiar  sensation  as  we  slid 
down  the  steep  incline;  as  we  went  in  under  the 
river  and  seemed  to  reach  the  bottom,  the  car 
distinctly  turned  and  the  forward  end  of  it  was 
higher  than  the  rear  —  and  then  we  were  going 
up  hill  again.  So  much  smoke  came  into  the 
car  we  could  hardly  breathe,  but  soon  we 
seemed  to  have  gotten  up  out  of  it,  and  my 
master  said,  "Well,  Old  Don,  we  are  all  in 
bond.  We  cannot  get  out  of  here  now  or  take 
anything  out  of  this  car,  or  we  shall  be  arrested 
as  smugglers." 


IN    A    PRIVATE    CAR  153 

All  the  next  day,  and  for  two  days,  we  were 
in  Canada.  The  doctor  often  opened  the  door, 
and  I  remember  what  a  beautiful  level  country 
Canada  was.  There  was  not  much  snow.  The 
fields  were  all  brown  and  bare,  but  so  level 
they  made  me  think  somewhat  of  my  early 
home  in  Illinois  when  I  was  a  colt. 

We  went  through  a  great  many  large  towns 
and  cities.  On  the  morning  of  the  third  day 
we  had  stopped  in  a  town  —  I  don't  know  the 
name  of  it,  but  it  was  large  with  immense  rail- 
road yards,  I  think  we  stopped  for  the  purpose 
of  icing  some  of  the  cars  in  our  train.  I  don't 
know  that  I  have  told  you,  but  our  train  was 
what  is  known  as  the  fast  freight  containing 
principally  perishable  goods  like  meat,  dairy 
products,  eggs,  fruit,  etc.;  and  at  a  point 
about  half  way  between  Chicago  and  Boston 
they  usually  iced  the  cars,  and  they  were  icing 
them  at  this  point  in  Canada.  We  were  there 
a  long  time. 

The  doctor  got  out  several  times.  Once  Bess 
slipped  out  behind  him  before  he  could  shut  the 
door.     You  see  she  had  been  in  the  car  since  we 


154  DON 

started  and  she  was  crazy  to  get  out  and  run. 
She  did  run  too  as  hard  as  she  could  across  the 
freight  yard,  under  half  a  dozen  freight  trains, 
and  was  soon  out  of  sight.  I  was  scared,  be- 
cause I  was  looking  out  and  I  saw  her  disappear, 
and  I  thought,  what  if  the  train  should  start! 
I  know  the  doctor  was  greatly  alarmed.  He 
ran  after  her  calling  in  the  most  distressed  tones 
for  her  to  come  back;  and  in  doing  so,  he  ran 
great  risk  of  his  life,  because  he  went  under 
half  a  dozen  freight  trains.  If  any  one  of  them 
had  started,  he  would  have  been  crushed  to 
death.  And  our  train  was  liable  to  start  any 
time  and  leave  him!  In  about  ten  minutes, 
however,  the  doctor  came  back  breathing  very 
hard.  I  know  he  had  had  a  hard  run.  He 
brought  Bess  with  him,  and  as  he  threw  her 
into  the  car  by  the  scrufF  of  the  neck  he  said: 
"There!  you  rascal!  You  have  caused  me 
more  trouble  than  you  ever  did  before  in  your 
life."  I  think  Bess  felt  pretty  cheap;  and  yet 
you  could  hardly  blame  her.  I  don't  think  the 
doctor  blamed  her,  but  he  was  very  glad  when 
he  got  her  back  into  the  car. 


NIAGARA  155 

The  train  didn't  start,  however,  for  nearly 
an  hour  after  that,  and  I  don't  think  it  stopped 
again  until  we  came  up  to  Niagara  on  the 
Canadian  side. 


XXXI 

NIAGARA 


W 


^^^/F^  remained  some  time  on  the  Cana- 
dian side.  My  master  kept  opening 
the  door  and  looking  out;  and  once 
he  got  out  of  the  car,  but  only  for  a  minute. 
When  he  came  back  he  did  not  go  up  into  his 
apartment,  but  stayed  around  and  seemed  par- 
ticularly excited  and  interested.  He  kept  pat- 
ting me  and  saying:  "Old  Don,  we  shall  soon 
be  back  in  the  United  States.  We  are  now 
about  to  cross  the  Niagara  River." 

I  didn't  know  what  it  all  meant,  but  as  the 
train  started  up  my  master  kept  looking  out 
and  I  could  tell  from  the  motion  of  the  car  that 
we  were  approaching  and  going  on  the  bridge. 
There  is  that  peculiar  sensation  which  everyone 


156  DON 

who  has  traveled  at  all  experiences  when  he 
approaches  a  bridge,  and  also  when  he  goes 
upon  the  structure.  Just  as  we  got  upon  the 
bridge,  my  master  opened  the  door  a  little  way 
and  looked  out;  I  put  my  nose  on  his  shoulder 
and  looked  too,  and  what  a  queer  feeling  it 
gave  me!  We  seemed  to  be  so  high;  as  we 
looked  down,  down,  down,  at  first  I  could  not 
see  anything  and  I  didn't  know  what  to  make 
of  it.  It  was  an  entirely  new  sensation.  I 
should  have  been  very  much  frightened  had  my 
master  not  been  near  me.  There  must  have 
been  something  in  the  atmosphere,  some  pecu- 
liar motion  of  the  car,  for  Bess  got  up  and 
jumped  down  from  her  place  and,  poking  her 
nose  between  Master's  legs,  looked  out  with  us. 
As  we  went  farther  and  farther  upon  the  bridge, 
my  curiosity  got  the  better  of  me  and  with  my 
nose  I  pushed  the  door  open  a  little  more,  so 
that  I  had  a  more  extended  view. 

My  master  laughed  at  my  maneuver  and 
said,  "Old  Don,  do  you  want  to  see  Niagara.?" 
and  at  that  moment  he  pushed  the  door  wide 
open,  so  that  I  had  the  whole  grand  panorama 


Painting  by  Grace  Loring  Basset 


BESS 

A  Portrait  at  Ten 


NIAGARA  157 

before  me.  Such  a  sight!  Way  down,  two 
hundred  feet  below  us,  was  that  rushing,  foam- 
ing, seething  torrent,  and  far  up  the  river  — 
but  clearly  within  our  view  —  was  the  wonder- 
ful fall.  I  well  remember  the  impressions  I  had, 
and  the  awe  and  wonder  that  filled  me.  I  know 
that  my  manner  impressed  my  master,  because, 
instead  of  looking  at  the  fall  and  the  water  and 
the  imposing  view  before  him,  he  turned  and 
looked  at  me,  and  he  seemed  more  surprised  at 
my  looks  and  attitude  than  at  the  scene  out- 
side. I  have  often  heard  him  try  to  describe 
my  expression.  I  have  heard  him  say:  *'Why, 
Old  Don  looked  like  a  war  horse  in  the  heat  of 
battle,  with  dilating  nostrils,  bulging  eyes, 
arched  neck,  a  very  king  of  a  horse." 

Well,  it  was  soon  over,  and  we  all  took  a 
long  breath.  My  master  closed  the  door  and 
went  back  into  his  apartment  and  lay  down. 
I  had  passed  through  one  of  the  most  unique 
experiences  that  a  horse  ever  had,  and  we  were 
in  America  again!  Do  you  know  —  I  have 
thought  of  it  a  great  many  times  —  I  do  not 
believe  that  ever  before  in  all  the  world  has  a 


iS8  DON 

horse  had  just  that  view  of  Niagara.  I  couldn't 
have  had  it  if  I  had  not  stood  exactly  as  I  did 
in  the  car,  as  I  told  you,  in  the  wrong  position; 
and,  as  I  stood  there,  if  someone  had  not 
opened  the  door  just  at  that  moment,  I  could 
not  have  had  the  view;  and  so  I  doubt  if  ever 
any  horse  has  been  so  fortunate  as  I  in  seeing 
that  wonderful  river  and  waterfall  from  a  point 
over  two  hundred  feet  up  in  the  air,  and  in 
having  that  grand  expanse  of  scenery  spread 
out  before  him. 

XXXII 
ON   TO  BOSTON 

UR  train  did  not  remain  long  at  Ni- 
agara after  it  had  crossed  the  river; 
and  while  we  were  waiting  there  Master 
looked  out  only  once:  —  then  he  got  down  and 
out  of  the  car  to  bring  me  some  water  from  the 
engine.  Soon  the  train  was  in  motion  again 
and  we  were  well  under  way  on  the  last  half 
of  our  journey.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  and  we 
pushed    ahead    rapidly    all    of    that    afternoon. 


ONTO    BOSTON  159 

The  New  York  Central  all  the  way  across  New 
York  State  is  a  four  track  road,  and  all  through 
freights   run   very  fast. 

Once  in  a  while  Master  would  open  the  door 
and  we  would  look  out  over  the  brown  fields 
and  the  frozen  streams  and  rivers.  I  remember 
Rochester  particularly  as  we  kept  the  door 
open  some  of  the  time  while  passing  through 
that  city,  and  in  places  we  crossed  bridges  high 
up  over  the  streets  with  electric  cars  running 
underneath.  It  would  have  given  me  a  feeling 
of  fear  had  I  not  so  recently  had  that  thrilling 
experience  at  Niagara;  but  it  grew  dark  early, 
and  shortly  after  leaving  Rochester  every- 
thing was  dark  outside,  so  my  master  did  not 
open  the  door  again, 

I  remember  very  well  when  he  gave  me  my 
supper  that  night;  it  consisted  of  six  large  ears 
of  corn,  and  he  said:  "I  will  give  you  one  extra 
tonight.  Old  Don,  in  memory  of  this  day.  It 
certainly  has  been  a  great  one  for  you  and  for 
me,"  Then  my  master  got  his  supper  and  gave 
Bess  hers,  and  he  sat  for  a  long  time  eating  and 
reading  and    talking   to    Bess    and    me.     Some- 


i6o  DON 

time  along  in  the  evening  he  got  down  from  his 
apartment  and  gave  me  an  extra  heavy  bedding, 
so  that  the  straw  was  almost  up  to  my  body. 
Then  he  went  to  bed  and  read  by  the  light  of 
one  of  his  lanterns,  until  way  into  the  night. 
I  don't  know  that  I  have  told  you  just  how 
my  master  had  his  books.  Back  of  the  place 
I  have  called  *'the  apartment"  built  up  with 
the  bales  of  hay  was  a  large  book-case  without 
doors.  It  was  a  heavy  case  that  my  master 
had  had  in  his  office  for  what  he  called  his 
overflow  library.  This  was  filled  with  all  sorts 
of  books  after  it  was  put  in  place  in  the  car. 
Of  course  the  platform  arrangement  built  up  by 
the  hay  covered  part  of  the  book-case,  but  three 
or  four  shelves  extended  above  the  platform 
upon  which  my  master  stayed;  so  that,  as  he 
lay  in  his  couch  at  night,  his  left  hand  came 
next  to  the  book-case  and  he  could  reach  out 
and  get  any  kind  of  book  that  he  wanted.  The 
only  one  about  which  I  heard  him  speak  es- 
pecially was  a  volume  of  Victor  Hugo's  Les 
Miserables,  the  one  that  contains  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  Battle  of  Waterloo.     He  must  have 


ON    TO    BOSTON  i6i 

read  it  two  or  three  times,  for  once  he  read  it 
aloud  —  not  that  he  thought  it  would  entertain 
Bess  or  me,  I  guess,  but  I  think  he  enjoyed  the 
language.  I  have  heard  him  say  that  it  was 
the  finest  language  he  ever  read. 

Of  course  at  that  time  I  was  not  especially 
interested  in  fine  language;  now  I  begin  to 
appreciate  what  he  meant,  and  I  would  advise 
anyone  who  has  read  this  book  for  a  while 
to  read  something  good  —  for  instance,  Hugo's 
description  of  the  Battle  of  Waterloo. 

It  was  on  this  journey  that  my  attention  was 
first  called  to  books,  papers,  magazines,  to 
literature.  You  see,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  was  really  in  a  house,  shut  up  with  a 
man  and  with  books  and  with  literary  sur- 
roundings, and  I  could  not  help  thinking  about 
it  somewhat.  It  was  the  furthest  from  my 
mind  then  that  I  should  ever  write  a  book, 
but  I  have  thought  much  more  about  books 
and  the  things  they  contain  since  that  journey. 

We  had  a  fairly  good  night;  that  was  the 
last  night  that  we  were  all  together  in  the  car. 
I     think     my     master    must     have     slept     very 


i62  DON 

soundly,  and  so  did  Bess;  because  there  was 
not  a  move  or  word  from  either  of  them  until 
early  morning,  I  should  say  just  at  dawn,  when 
my  master  awoke,  turned  very  suddenly, 
jumped  up  and  shouted:  "Good  morning.  Old 
Don!  This  is  our  last  day.  We  shall  be  in 
New  England  in  a  very  few  minutes.  We  are 
in  Albany  now,  the  capital  of  the  great  state  of 
New  York." 

We  didn't  stop  at  the  city  he  called  Albany, 
but  Master  opened  the  door,  and  soon  w^e  came 
to  a  bridge.  "Don,"  he  said,  "yesterday 
morning  you  saw  Niagara;  this  morning  you 
shall  see  the  beautiful  and  romantic  Hudson." 
As  we  ran  out  on  the  bridge  which  crosses  the 
river  at  Albany,  I  looked  down  on  Hudson 
River.  We  were  high  above  it,  and  it  was 
beautiful,  but  it  didn't  seem  much  compared 
with  the  wonderful  scene  of  the  morning  before. 

When  we  reached  the  other  side  of  the  bridge, 
our  train  was  pushed  on  a  side  track.  We  stood 
there  a  long  time,  and  it  was  then  my  master 
had  the  most  trouble  of  any  time  during  the 
journey,  on  account  of  the  size  of  the  car.     The 


ON    TO    BOSTON  163 

Boston  and  Albany  did  not  want  to  take  the 
car  on  the  through  train,  because  they  said  it 
was  so  large  it  would  not  go  under  the  bridges 
in  South  Boston.  They  uncoupled  the  car  and 
were  about  to  push  it  away  from  the  train 
when  my  master  said  so  much,  even  going  back 
to  the  office  and  talking  with  the  man  in  charge 
of  affairs  at  that  station,  that,  after  a  lot  of 
argument  and  pleading  and  I  guess  some  threats 
of  suits  for  damages,  our  car  was  left  with  the 
train;  and,  after  hours  of  delay,  not  until  noon 
or  after,  we  were  finally  on  our  way  east,  in 
the  same  train  and  in  the  same  place  in  the  train 
that  we  had  occupied  since  we  left  Chicago 
three   days   before. 

Every  detail  of  that  afternoon  is  perfectly 
clear  in  my  mind.  I  felt  that  the  end  of  our 
journey  was  coming.  I  had  a  suspicion  that 
Master  was  going  to  leave  us;  I  dreaded  to 
have  him  go.  He  had  been  several  times  during 
the  journey  away  from  us  for  an  hour  when  he 
went  back  to  what  he  called  the  "pony,"  a 
little  box  car  in  which  the  train  men  ride.  I 
think   only   twice   had    he    been    away   for   any 


i64  DON 

length  of  time;  but  I  remember  this  afternoon 
he  went  back  and  was  gone  a  long  time,  or  so 
it  seemed  to  us,  though  probably  not  more 
than  an  hour;  and,  just  before  we  came  to 
Pittsfield,  he  returned  to  us.  Climbing  into 
the  car  he  said:  "Well,  folks,  we  are  in  New 
England  and  in  the  heart  of  the  Berkshire 
Hills.  We  shall  soon  be  in  Boston."  He  kept 
the  door  open  much  of  the  time  so  that  we 
could  see  the  beautiful  brown  and  green  hills 
and  valleys  and  frozen  streams  as  we  passed 
along. 

Oh,  it  was  a  day  to  be  remembered;  but  it 
got  dark  early,  and  along  about  eight  o'clock 
we  ran  into  Westfield.  It  was  here  that  Master 
hurriedly  took  off  his  long  white  surgeon's 
coat,  put  on  his  overcoat,  packed  into  a  grip 
some  few  toilet  articles  that  he  had  used  during 
the  journey,  gave  me  a  tremendous  supper 
saying,  *'01d  Don,  that  will  have  to  be  your 
supper  and  breakfast,"  put  a  big  pail  of  water 
by  me,  gave  Bess  an  abundance  of  food,  patted 
me  and  stroked  my  nose,  patted  Bess,  said 
goodby    and    jumped    out.     I    heard    the    key 


ONTO    BOSTON  165 

turn  in  the  padlock  on  the  outside  of  the  car, 
—  and  he  was  gone!  We  were  alone  in  that 
dark  car,  —  no  fire,  no  lanterns,  no  master  to 
keep  up  our  courage  with  his  cheering  presence 
and  words.  Perhaps  you  think  that  was  not 
a  blue  night. 

All  night  there  was  a  steady  rumble  of  the 
train,  and  towards  morning  there  was  a  lot  of 
bumping  and  shifting  and  creaking,  backing 
up  and  going  forward,  and  we  seemed  to  be 
switching  from  one  side  to  the  other.  Then 
all  was  still  and  we  didn't  move  again.  I  had 
eaten  all  the  food  that  my  master  had  given 
me,  and  had  drunk  the  water;  Bess  had  eaten 
everything  she  had,  and  had  been  down  and 
drunk  out  of  my  pail  twice,  —  still  no  one  came. 
It  was  just  as  dark,  but  I  knew  that  it  could  not 
be  night.  I  was  sure  that  it  was  getting  along 
towards  noon.  Why  didn't  Master  come!  I 
called  and  called,  and  Bess  barked;  but  no  one 
opened  the  door.  I  could  hear  men  outside, 
could  hear  bumping  and  rolling  as  if  things  were 
being  taken  out  of  cars;  still  no  one  came  to 
our   door. 


i66  DON 

At  last  I  heard  a  lady's  voice  and  it  sounded 
like  my  mistress's.  It  had  been  a  long  time 
since  I  had  seen  her  or  heard  her  voice,  but  I 
felt  that  I  was  not  mistaken.  Then  I  heard 
my  master:  —  "I  am  sure  of  the  number,  and 
it  is  a  red  car  and  very  high.     The  number  is 

13.963-" 
Then    came    the    voice    of    my    mistress:  — 

"Here  it  is;   this  is  a  big  car,  and  the  number  is 

thirteen   hundred  —  no,   thirteen  thousand,  nine 

hundred    and    sixty-three.     It   is    red    too;     this 

is  the  car,  — we  are  coming  Don!" 

I  answered  just  as  loudly  as  I  could,  Bess 
barked;  then  I  heard  the  key  in  the  lock,  the 
door  was  thrown  open  and  there  stood  my 
master  and  mistress  and  the  man.  They  had 
all  come  to  take  Bess  and  me  to  our  new  home 
out  in   Dorchester. 

And  this  was  the  end  of  my  famous  journey 
in  a  private  car! 


BOSTON    TO    DORCHESTER     167 

XXXIII 

MY  FIRST   TRIP  FROM  BOSTON 
TO  DORCHESTER 

FOUND  it  more  of  a  job  to  get  out  of  that 
car  than  it  was  to  get  into  it.  It  seemed 
comparatively  easy  to  walk  into  it  from  the 
station  at  Rock  Island,  but  walking  out  of  the 
car  in  the  freight  yard  in  South  Boston  was 
quite  a  different  thing.  There  was  no  high 
platform,  no  easy  incline.  They  put  up  to  the 
door  a  kind  of  ladder  bridge,  over  which  they 
expected  me  to  descend  to  the  ground.  I 
wanted  to  get  out,  because  the  first  minute  that 
the  door  opened  Bess  bounded  out,  and  she 
never  stepped  foot  into  that  car  again.  Al- 
though I  was  just  as  anxious  to  get  out,  I 
couldn't  do  it  so  easily  as  Bess  had.  When 
that  ladder-like  arrangement  was  put  up  and 
I  looked  at  it,  it  didn't  seem  to  me  that  I 
ever  could  go  down  that  steep  incline;  but 
when  it  was  in  place  and  my  master  and  the 
man  came  up  into  the  car  and  patted  me  and 
fed  me  and  gave  me  some  water,  and  my  mis- 


i68  DON 

tress  stayed  outside  and  talked  to  me,  I  de- 
cided that  I  would  try  it;  so  I  very  gingerly 
put  out  first  one  fore  foot  and  then  the  other 
and  I  found  that  it  was  not  quite  so  hard  after 
all;  soon  my  whole  body  and  all  four  feet  were 
out  on  the  ladder  —  two  or  three  steps  and  I 
was  down  on  the  ground  again. 

Oh,  didn't  it  seem  good  to  be  in  the  open  air 
and  on  the  firm  ground!  I  felt  so  good  that  I 
couldn't  help  dancing  round  and  kicking  up  my 
heels.  But  my  master  was  in  no  mood  then  to 
let  me  frisk  about  the  freight  yard;  he  was 
too  anxious  to  get  me  out,  and  too  glad  to  have 
us  in  Boston  to  wait  long;  and  very  soon  we 
started  for  Dorchester. 

They  had  come  for  me  in  a  democrat  with  one 
of  the  doctor's  horses,  by  the  name  of  Dick. 
My  master  and  mistress  sat  on  the  seat  and 
drove  and  talked  while  the  man  sat  in  behind 
and  led  me.  It  seemed  very  nice  for  the 
first  mile  or  two:  I  felt  so  good  I  wanted  to 
prance;  but  I  had  been  in  that  small  cramped 
space  so  long  that,  before  we  had  gotten  far 
from  the  freight   yard,   my  legs   began   to  give 


BOSTON    TO    DORCHESTER      169 

out,  and  before  I  was  half  way  to  Dorchester 
I  was  so  tired'  it  seemed  to  me  I  could  not  walk 
any  farther.  My  master  stopped  every  few 
minutes  and  let  me  rest;  he  got  out  and  rubbed 
my  legs  and  talked  to  me  and  then  I  could  go 
on  a  little. 

I  was  glad  when  we  left  the  foggy  city  and 
got  out  where  the  buildings  were  not  so  high 
or  so  near  together.  It  seemed  more  like  home. 
I  didn't  then,  and  I  don't  now  like  the  dense 
city:  the  buildings  are  so  thick  they  make  me 
nervous.  On  this  first  trip  everything  was  new 
and  strange.  I  had  been  shut  up  so  long  in 
that  dark  car  that  my  eyes  soon  began  to  pain, 
the  slanting  winter  sun  coming  square  into  my 
face  as  we  went  out  south  toward  Dorchester. 

I  remember  that  journey  very  well.  I  have 
been  over  much  of  the  same  road  a  hundred 
times,  but  not  more  than  two  or  three  times 
have  I  been  away  down  town  since  that  day. 

Soon  we  got  out  into  Roxbury  and  I  remem- 
ber the  long  climb  up  Warren  Street  to  Grove 
Hall.  Then  we  came  in  sight  of  Franklin  Park. 
That  made  me  glad;    it  reminded  me  of  Rock 


I70  DON 

Island  and  the  country  about  the  Mississippi 
River.  The  trees  and  shrubs,  although  it  was 
winter,  all  looked  beautiful  to  me.  We  stopped 
awhile  at  Franklin  Park  and  Glenway  Street, 
and  I  drank  at  a  trough.  How  good  that  water 
tasted!  I  have  drunk  there  hundreds  of  times 
since,  and  in  other  places  in  and  about  Boston, 
but  there  is  no  place  in  all  of  New  England  at 
which  I  have  ever  drunk  where  the  water  tastes 
so  good  as  it  does  there;  and  I  never  drink  at 
that  trough  that  I  do  not  remember  the  first 
time  I  stopped  there  and  took  my  first  real 
drink  of  water  in  New  England. 

After  we  had  rested  somewhat  and  my  master 
and  mistress  had  talked  to  me,  rubbed  and 
patted  me,  we  started  for  the  last  half  mile 
down  Glenway  Street,  all  of  the  way  downhill. 
In  a  few  minutes  we  reached  our  destination 
and  Master  led  me  into  the  big  barn  that  was 
to  be  my  home  for  the  next  six  years.  It  was 
a  stable  where  other  horses  were  kept.  There 
was  the  grocer's  horse  Dick  which  came  for 
me;  then  there  were  the  other  horses;  one  by 
the  name  of  Jim,  which  the  grocer  kept,  a  black 


OUR    BEST    FRIENDS  171 

horse  called  Don  which  belonged  to  another 
gentleman,  and  one  other;  I  do  not  remember 
the  name. 

I  had  a  fine,  wide  stall,  and  I  can  remember 
how  good  it  looked  to  me,  all  filled  with  straw, 
and  how  good  the  hay  tasted  and  the  oats 
that  I  had  that  night,  and  how  quickly  I  laid 
down  in  that  straw  when  I  once  got  into  the 
stall  and  how  I  slept  that  first  night.  It  took 
me  a  week  to  get  rested,  but  I  was  home  at 
last;  and  this  is  not  only  the  end  of  the  thou- 
sand miles  in  a  private  car,  but  the  end  of  my 
journey. 


XXXIV 
ONE  OF  OUR  BEST  FRIENDS 

*"  HAVE  often  referred  to  "The  Captain," 
but  I  want  to  tell  you  more  about  him 
before    we    get    too    far    away    from    Rock 

Island.     I   used  to  go  oftener  to  the  Captain's 

house  than  to  any  other  place  in  Rock  Island. 

How  well  I  remember  him!     He  was  such  a  fine- 


172  DON 

looking  man.  I  have  heard  Master  say  he 
looked  like  a  judge  or  a  senator.  I  think  I 
knew  him  better  than  any  other  man  outside 
of  my  own  family,  and  I  never  knew  a  man  so 
fond  of  horses  as  was  the  Captain.  He  always 
kept  several  and  drove  a  great  deal.  I  saw 
him  more  often  at  our  office  than  I  did  at  his 
house,  because  of  course  if  I  went  to  his  house 
he  usually  saw  the  doctor  and  not  me;  but 
nearly  every  day  for  years,  unless  he  happened 
to  be  ill  at  home,  I  saw  the  Captain.  You  see 
he  was  president  of  the  bank  and  his  office 
and  ours  were  in  the  same  building. 

How  many  times  he  has  come  along  where 
I  stood  and  spoken  to  me.  "Well,  Old  Don," 
he  would  say,  "how  are  you  today?  Business 
good.^  Does  the  doctor  treat  you  well?  Does 
he  feed  you?  You  are  looking  well."  Oh,  I 
have  a  warm  place  in  my  heart  for  the  Captain. 
Of  course  there  are  other  captains,  but  to  me 
and  to  all  of  us  the  Captain  means  but  one 
person. 

We  used  to  go  to  his  home  pretty  often; 
most   of  the   time   professionally:    someone  was 


OUR    BEST    FRIENDS        173 

sick,  either  the  Captain  or  his  wife,  his  son  or 
his  son's  wife  or  some  guest  in  the  house.  And 
yet  we  were  there  a  great  many  times  when  no 
one  was  sick.  Quite  often  my  master  and  mis- 
tress would  be  invited  to  dinner  or  supper,  and 
I  would  be  put  into  the  stable  and  fed.  I 
have  always  enjoyed  dining  out.  Although  I 
was  well  fed  at  home,  I  think  I  was  fed  a  little 
better  when  dining  out;  and  you  can't  blame 
a  horse  for  thinking  a  good  deal  about  his 
stomach  and  what  he  eats.  It  may  seem  sordid 
and  common,  but  just  the  same  it  is  one  of  his 
chief  pleasures  in  Hfe, 

I  started  out  to  tell  of  a  particular  time  when 
we  went  to  the  Captain's  house.  We  had  been 
going  there  every  day,  twice  and  three  times, 
and  occasionally  in  the  night,  for  many  weeks; 
when  one  evening  about  nine  o'clock  my  master 
ordered  me  hitched  up  and  we  knew  in  the 
stable  that  it  was  a  hurry  call,  so  I  was  on  the 
way  in  about  two  minutes.  It  was  in  the 
summer  and  a  pleasant  evening  and  Mistress 
was  sitting  on  the  porch  as  we  came  out;  she 
asked  if  she  might  go  and  the  doctor  said  she 


174  DON 

might  if  she  would  be  quick,  so  she  hurried  out 
and  got  into  the  buggy  and  we  drove  very  fast 
up  to  the  Sixth  Avenue  gate  of  the  Captain's 
residence. 

My  master,  without  saying  anything,  jumped 
out  and  ran  up  the  walk  with  his  bag.  He  was 
gone  a  long  time.  I  thought  Mistress  went 
to  sleep,  and  yet  I  doubt  if  she  did,  because 
she  was  anxious.  I  was  sure  something  very 
serious  must  be  going  on  or  he  wouldn't  stay 
so  long.  We  could  see  lights  flashing  out  over 
the  great  house,  as  if  different  people  were 
going  from  one  room  to  another,  until  the  whole 
house  was  lighted.  We  saw  and  heard  some- 
one rapidly  leave  the  house  by  the  Twentieth 
Street  entrance  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  three 
gentlemen  came  running  down  Twentieth  Street 
and  into  the  house.  In  about  an  hour  and  a 
half.  Master  came  slowly  down  the  path  and  as 
slowly  climbed  in. 

Mistress   exclaimed:     "What   have   you   been 
doing .^     Is  the  Captain  worse?" 

"For  a  few  minutes  there  was  no  Captain," 
and  the  doctor's  voice  sounded  tired. 


OUR    BEST    FRIENDS        175 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Mistress. 

"He  came  the  nearest  to  death  that  ever  I 
saw  a  man  come  and  still  live";  and  this  is 
what  my  master  said  as  we  jogged  home  that 
night. 

"When  I  got  into  the  house,  all  was  con- 
fusion. The  Captain  had  had  a  very  serious 
hemorrhage  and  was  still  bleeding.  The  two 
nurses  had  been  unable  to  control  the  hem- 
orrhage and  when  I  came  into  the  room  the 
Captain  was  just  breathing.  He  looked  up  at 
me  with  that  pleasant  smile  and  said  in  a  faint 
voice:  *I  guess  it's  about  over  for  me;  but 
you've  been  faithful  and  done  all  you  could.' 
I  couldn't  stop  to  talk  to  him,  but  set  about  to 
try  to  control  the  flow  of  blood.  Before  I  had 
really  accomplished  anything,  that  awful  pallor 
swept  over  the  entire  body,  face  and  hands, 
and  the  eyes  took  on  that  peculiar  deathly  look, 
—  one  little  gasp  and  the  Captain  was  gone. 

"Of  course  at  that  moment  the  hemorrhage 
stopped.  There  was  no  pulse  at  the  wrist,  no 
heart  throb  that  I  could  detect.  Sending  one 
of   the    nurses    for   the    family,   I    administered 


176  DON 

several  hypodermic  injections  of  stimulants  and 
medicine,  and  kept  the  nurses  chafing  his  hands 
and  feet.  We  opened  the  windows  and  fanned 
him.  I  hadn't  the  sHghtest  idea  that  the 
Captain  would  ever  breathe  again;  but  you  see 
the  thing  that  caused  the  condition  had  stopped, 
and  it  was  in  reality  a  very  profound  faint.  In 
a  minute  or  less  I  felt  a  slight  pulse  at  the  wrist 
and  could  detect  the  sound  of  the  heart;  in 
two  or  three  minutes  he  began  to  breathe, 
spasmodically  at  first,  but  soon  regularly;  and 
in  half  an  hour  he  was  almost  as  well  as  before, 
though  very  weak.  I  believe  that  we  are 
through  with  the  hemorrhage,  and  I  believe 
the  Captain  will  come  out  and  be  all  right  in 
a  few  weeks." 

"Who  were  those  men  you  sent  for.?"  asked 
my  mistress. 

"Oh,  those  were  Judge  S and  his  assist- 
ant. There  was  a  Httle  matter  of  business  the 
Captain  wanted  to  fix  up.  He  spoke  of  it 
yesterday,  and  when  he  revived  so  unexpectedly, 
the  family  thought  he  might  feel  easier  if  his 
legal  advisers  came  in,  so  they  were  sent  for.'* 


OUR    BEST    FRIENDS         177 

We  had  reached  home  by  this  time;  Master 
and  Mistress  went  in  and  I  heard  no  more  about 
the  Captain's  case  that  night.  The  next  morn- 
ing early  we  went  up  and  everything  was  pro- 
gressing satisfactorily;  so  the  doctor  made  a 
short  call  and  came  out  looking  very  happy. 
In  a  few  days,  from  what  I  heard  and  saw,  I 
knew  that  the  Captain  was  on  the  road  to  rapid 
recovery.  In  less  than  a  month  he  resumed  his 
duties  at  the  office  and  I  again  saw  him  nearly 
every  day. 

The  first  time  he  came  he  rode  down,  and  as 
he  stepped  out  of  his  carriage  right  in  front  of 
me,  he  spied  me  and  said:  "Hello,  Old  Don! 
A  month  ago  I  didn't  expect  ever  to  see  you 
again,"  —  and  he  walked  into  the  bank  as  erect 
as  ever!  Oh,  I  tell  you  the  Captain  was  a  fine- 
looking  man,  and  one  of  our  best  friends. 

You  may  have  noticed  that  I  have  referred 
to  myself  almost  from  the  start  as  "Old  Don," 
and  you  may  wonder  if  I  were  never  young. 
I  was  less  than  three  years  old  when  I  came  to 
m}^  master,  but  one  of  the  first  men  to  take  care 
of  me  was  a  medical  student  who  lived  in  my 


178  DON 

master's  family  and  studied  medicine,  and  did 
some  work  for  his  board.  Among  other  things 
he  took  care  of  me.  Then  I  could  not  have 
been  over  four  or  five  years  old,  but  he  always 
referred  to  me  as  "Old  Don,"  and  from  that 
time  on  nearly  everybody  called  me  either 
"Don"  or  "Old  Don." 


XXXV 

MY  MASTER   MAKES  A  MISTAKE 

F  course  he  has  made  many  mistakes, 
but  this  one  in  particular  was  a  good 
mistake  to  make,  because  it  taught 
him,  so  he  says,  one  of  the  best  lessons  of  his 
life.  I  have  just  been  telling  about  the  Captain, 
and  his  apparent  death  and  restoration;  it 
seems  a  good  place  here  to  tell  another  story 
which  also  goes  to  show  that  one  must  never 
give  up. 

Once  after  we  came  to  Boston  (I  am  not 
sure  about  the  time,  but  it  was  probably 
sometime  during  the  first  year)   we  were  going 


MY    MASTER'S    MISTAKE    179 

to  see  a  young  lady  over  in  Dorchester,  We 
had  been  going  there  for  a  week  or  two.  I 
knew  from  things  that  Master  had  said  at  dif- 
ferent times  that  the  young  lady  had  been  a 
patient  of  his  for  some  months,  had  been  com- 
ing to  the  office;  but  had  gradually  failed  until 
at  last  she  was  unable  to  come,  and  he  had  to 
visit  her  in  her  home.  I  think  she  had  been 
getting  worse  rapidly,  because  my  master  went 
several  times  a  day;  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
he  was  anxious  about  her. 

He  had  been  there  one  morning  for  a  long 
time.  Mistress  was  outside  with  me.  When 
Master  came  out,  he  looked  very  sober  and 
seemed  to  be  greatly  distressed  in  his  mind. 
He  got  into  the  buggy  and  drove  off.  Nothing 
was  said  for  some  little  time.  Finally  Master 
drew  a  long  breath  and  said,  "How  I  dread  the 
next  call  at  that  house!" 

"Why?"  asked  my  mistress;  "Is  the  patient 
so  much  worse?" 

"Yes,  she  is  so  much  worse  that  she  has  been 
almost  hopeless  for  days.  I  have  known  that, 
but  this  afternoon  I  have  got  to  tell  her." 


i8o  DON 

"What  do  you  do  that  for?  I  thought  you 
never  told  a  patient  his  case  was  hopeless." 

"I  never  do;  I  don't  really  think  any  case  is 
absolutely  hopeless.  This  one,  perhaps,  is  as 
nearly  hopeless  as  a  case  can  be." 

"Well,  then,  why  do  you  tell  her.?" 

"The  family  insist  upon  it.  They  say  that 
she  must  know  it;  they  don't  feel  that  it  would 
be  right  for  her  not  to  know  that  she  is  so 
near  death  as  she  apparently  is.  I  have  argued 
with  them  and  said  all  that  I  could,  but  they 
insist  that  she  shall  be  told,  and  that  I  am  the 
right  one  to  do  it;  and  I  suppose  I  shall  have 
to.  I  have  told  them  that  no  case  is  entirely 
hopeless,  that  of  course  there  is  a  possibility 
of  even  this  patient  recovering;  but  they  feel 
that,  when  the  chances  are  so  many  in  favor  of 
her  not  recovering,  she  should  be  told  just  how 
it  is;  so  I  have  got  to  go  back  this  afternoon 
and  tell  her." 

We  drove  along  and  made  two  or  three  other 
calls;  there  was  not  much  more  said;  both 
the  occupants  of  the  carriage  seemed  rather 
sober.     In  the  afternoon  about  five  o'clock  we 


MY    MASTER'S    MISTAKE    i8i 

started  again  for  this  same  house.  Hardly  a 
word  was  said  that  I  overheard,  although  my 
mistress  was  in  the  carriage  with  the  doctor  as 
before.  When  we  got  to  the  door  the  doctor 
jumped  out  and  walked  briskly  into  the  house, 
as  if  he  were  going  to  a  pleasant  instead  of  a 
hard  task.  He  made  a  call  of  ordinary  length, 
was  in  the  house  perhaps  fifteen  or  twenty 
minutes,  and  came  out  looking  quite  cheerful 
and  bright.  As  soon  as  he  was  in  the  carriage, 
before  even  I  had  started,  my  mistress  said: 
"What  did  you  do?  What  did  the  patient 
say.?"  And  my  master  replied  with  enthu- 
siasm: — 

"She  is  a  great  woman!  She  is  brave  and 
true.  I  wish  everyone  could  feel  as  she  feels, 
and  could  do  as  she  does;  how  much  better  and 
happier  this  world  would  be,  and  how  much 
easier!" 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"Why,  she  said  she  knew  that  she  was  very 
sick,  and  that  she  probably  could  not  get  well, 
and  it  was  not  necessary  for  me  to  tell  her, 
but  she  was  glad   I   had;    because  I  had   done 


i82  DON 

as  her  people  wanted  and  perhaps  had  done 
right;  —  *But,'  and  she  looked  at  me  with  al- 
most a  twinkle  in  her  eye,  'I  believe  I  am  going 
to  get  well!'    Now,  what    do  you  think  of  that!" 

**Do  you  think  so?"  asked  my  mistress. 

*'I  don't  know;  she  is  better  this  afternoon. 
I  could  see  that  she  was  as  soon  as  I  went  into 
the  house;  there  had  been  a  change  for  the 
better,  but  I  had  this  awful  thing  in  my  mind, 
the  family  insisted  that  I  do  it,  and  really  with- 
out considering  the  improvement  I  blundered 
ahead  with  my  message." 

They  talked  more  or  less  about  the  case; 
we  went  on  and  made  other  calls  and  finally 
went  home,  and  the  day  ended  much  as  other 
days  have. 

But  to  finish  about  the  case.  The  next  day 
when  we  went  there  the  patient  was  better, 
and  the  next  day  still  better.  In  a  week  she 
was  convalescent;  and  in  two  or  three  weeks, 
instead  of  our  making  calls  upon  her,  she  came 
to  the  office,  and  was  soon  well! 

My  real  reason  for  telling  all  this  is  to  show 
my  master's  position  in  this  matter  of  life  and 


MY    MASTER'S    MISTAKE    183 

death,  I  have  heard  him  state  it  over  and 
over  again  to  different  people,  perhaps  not 
always  in  the  same  words,  but  the  same  idea: 
that  no  one  can  tell  just  when  the  time  is  going 
to  come,  and  that  no  one  has  any  right  to  say 
that  this  person  or  that  person  cannot  live,  that 
such  a  patient  is  incurable  or  that  another  one 
will  positively  not  live  through  the  night;  that 
he  never  gives  up,  but  keeps  on  trying  to  save 
the  patient's  life,  trying  to  make  it  last  a  little 
longer,  —  an  hour,  a  day,  a  week,  a  month, 
a  year,  perhaps  ten  years;  and  that  in  his 
opinion  a  day  is  as  good  to  one  person  as  to 
another;  and  he  does  not  feel  because  one  is 
eighty  or  ninety  or  more,  he  is  useless,  but  that 
if  he  is  eighty  why  not  live  to  be  eighty-one 
or  eighty-five  or  ninety?  if  ninety,  why  not 
live  to  be  ninety-one  or  ninety-five?  that  no 
one  can  tell  what  any  person  may  accomplish 
by  just  one  hour  more  of  life,  what  wonderful 
things  may  be  done  even  in  that  one  hour. 
Whether  the  person  be  a  young  lady  in  her 
teens  or  an  old  man  in  his  nineties,  his  motto 
should  be,  "Hope  and  live  on!" 


i84  DON 

XXXVI 

THE  GIPSY  CAMP 

^'^EOPLE  who  travel  in  the  night,  only  in 
the  city  and  suburbs,  haven't  any  idea 
"^  how  dark  country  roads  are,  especially 
in  the  summer  and  when  no  moon  or  stars  are 
shining.  I  do  not  remember  of  being  really 
afraid  in  the  night  except  two  or  three  times: 
once  when  we  were  driving  into  Rock  Island 
from  Edgington  after  night  and  it  was  very 
dark;  but  it  was  in  the  winter,  and  there  were 
spots  of  snow  on  the  ground,  and,  although 
it  was  a  starless  night,  yet,  there  being  no  leaves 
on  the  trees,  there  was  not  the  jet  blackness  of 
the  summer  when  the  trees  are  in  full  leaf, 
and  there  is  nothing  white  upon  the  ground. 

This  was  shortly  after  Rock  Island  was 
lighted  by  electricity,  which  was  in  the  early 
'80s,  I  think  '82  or  '83.  The  system  of  Hght- 
ing  was  by  "the  Towers,"  high  towers  made 
of  gas  pipe,  some  of  them  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  feet  high.  Upon  the  tiptop  of  these 
towers   were   placed    two   electric   lights.     They 


THE    GIPSY    CAMP  185 

were  pretty  but  they  didn't  light  the  streets  of 
the  city  very  well.  They  did,  however,  throw 
light  a  long  distance. 

On  the  night  of  which  I  speak  when  we 
were  about  three  or  four  miles  beyond  Milan 
(eight  or  perhaps  ten  miles  from  home),  the 
Tower  lights  were  something  beautiful.  They 
sent  to  us  a  continuous  path  of  light  such  as 
you  have  seen  the  moon  make  upon  the  water; 
and  really,  although  we  were  nearly  ten  miles 
away,  those  lights  gave  us  a  great  deal  of  help 
in  seeing  the  way  and  the  roads. 

On  the  night  about  which  I  started  to  tell, 
however,  there  was  no  moon;  the  stars  were 
obscured;  the  trees  were  in  full  leaf,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  reflect  light.  We  were  called 
about  eleven  o'clock  to  go  and  see  a  sick  baby 
in  a  gipsy  camp  beyond  Chippianock,  up  a  long 
hill  the  road  of  which  was  used  rarely,  down 
another  long  hill,  —  no  real  road,  only  a  path 
through  the  field;  down  through  a  woodlot 
where  it  was  as  dark  as  dark  could  be,  and  into 
a  camp  of  gipsies. 

The   camp  had    recently  been   located   there. 


i86  DON 

Nobody  in  Rock  Island  knew  about  it.  The 
man  who  came  for  my  master  spoke  broken 
English  but  described  as  well  as  he  could  the 
situation  of  the  camp,  and  said:  "I  go  with 
you,  —  light  way."  Mistress  would  not  let 
us  go  alone,  so  she  went  along.  The  man  had 
started  on  before  us,  and  we  overtook  him  by 
the   cemetery. 

All  of  the  way  I  am  sure  my  master  had  a 
peculiar,  creepy  sensation;  I  could  feel  it  in 
the  lines,  and  I  myself  was  apprehensive, 
scared  and  uncertain.  I  heard  Master  say: 
"I  don't  know  who  the  man  is,  —  you  don't 
suppose  he  is  luring  us  out  there  to  get  us  into 
trouble.?"  That  frightened  Mistress,  and  two 
or  three  times  they  were  on  the  point  of  turning 
round  and  going  back;  but  the  thought  of  the 
sick  baby  kept  them  from  doing  it. 

Going  up  the  long  hill,  a  rough  unused  road 
south  of  the  cemetery,  we  were  all  much  fright- 
ened again  and  came  very  near  retreating;  but 
the  man  with  the  lantern  urged  us  to  follow, 
calling  back:  "All  right,  I  take  you  there. 
Road  it  all  safe.     My  wife  give  you  cup  of  tea." 


THE    GIPSY    CAMP  187 

I  had  never  been  in  such  a  dark  place,  or  on 
such  a  rough  road,  or  so  far  away  from  **civ- 
iHzation";  and  that  httle  bit  of  a  lantern  (the 
one  light  inside  of  it  was  a  candle)  only  served 
to  make  it  seem  darker  and  more  fierce  all 
about  us.  When  we  reached  the  top  of  the 
hill,  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  camp-fire  in  some 
woodland  down  in  the  valley.  Even  then  we 
were  not  at  all  sure  that  it  was  not  a  band  of 
robbers,  but  we  had  gone  so  far  and  felt  it  was 
best  to  keep  on.  Master  drove  me  gingerly, 
carefully  down  the  hill.  The  way  became  so 
rough  that  he  got  out  and  led  me. 

At  the  bottom  was  a  level  cleared  space.  A 
little  farther  on  we  could  discern  by  the  light 
of  a  fire  the  outlines  of  a  camp,  and  we  heard 
one  of  the  weirdest  sounds,  —  the  cry  of  the 
child.  Then  I  could  sense  courage  in  my 
master's  touch:  he  felt  and  acted  differently, 
because  he  knew  it  was  not  a  band  of  robbers, 
but  merely  a  camp  of  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren; he  knew  no  harm  would  come  to  us,  and 
possibly  we  could  do  them  some  good. 

He  soon  reached  the  wagon  in  which  the  Httle 


i88  DON 

baby  was  lying.  It  had  just  had  a  spasm, 
and  the  sound  that  we  had  heard  was  the  first 
cry  it  gave  after  the  spasm  had  left  its  Httle 
convulsed   body. 

Of  course  the  little  home  being  out-of-doors 
I  was  very  near,  and  by  the  light  of  the  lantern 
could  see  the  child's  mother,  —  a  queer-looking 
woman,  almost  as  dark  as  a  colored  woman,  — 
and  a  little  sick  baby  lying  on  a  pillow  in  the 
back  of  the  wagon.  All  at  once  the  poor  little 
thing  went  into  another  spasm.  Such  awful 
contortions!  It  frightened  Mistress:  she  thought 
the  baby  was  dying. 

Master  administered  ether.  That  was  the 
first  time  I  ever  smelled  ether,  —  I  should  think 
it  would  be  awful  to  take  it.  Soon  the  baby 
was  quiet.  He  gave  some  medicine,  and  we 
waited  there  for  an  hour.  The  child  had  no 
more  spasms,  seemed  all  right;  and  along  in  the 
wee  small  hours  of  the  morning  we  crept  slowly 
up  the  hill,  back  by  the  cemetery  and  were 
soon  on  our  way  home,  lighted  somewhat  the 
rest  of  the  distance  by  the  tall  towers  and  the 
lights  of  Rock  Island. 


INSTINCT    OR    REASON?    189 

XXXVII 

INSTINCT  OR  RE  J  SON? 

HAVE  put  these  two  words  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  chapter;  I  don't  know  what 
they  mean;  I  have  not  seen  anyone  yet 
who  did.  I  hear  people  speak  of  animal  in- 
stinct; I  believe  that  animals  reason.  I  don't 
believe  there  is  any  material  difference  between 
what  is  known  as  animal  instinct  and  reason, 
—  except  in  degree.  All  animal  life,  vegetable 
life  so  far  as  that  is  concerned,  have  certain 
instinctive  traits  of  character  and  seeming 
knowledge. 

The  squash  vine,  as  it  runs  along  the  ground, 
immediately  reaches  up  to  a  limb  of  a  tree  or 
a  stick  or  any  visible  support  that  is  not  too 
far  above  it,  and  in  a  short  time  has  it  firmly 
in  the  clasp  of  its  tendrils:  the  instinctive 
demand  of  nature  to  lay  hold  of  something 
secure,  —  the  vine  is  not  able  to  support  itself 
in  mid-air.  Master  says  the  babe,  with  the 
same  instinct  of  self-preservation,  before,  of 
course,  it   is   old    enough   to   have  the   slightest 


I90  DON 

trace  of  reasoning  power,  seizes  upon  whatever 
is  near  its  mouth  for  animal  sustenance. 

Then  too,  all  animals  reason  somewhat, 
reason  from  cause  to  effect;  and  I  think,  my 
master  thinks,  many  people  think,  from  effect 
back  to  cause. 

Now  I  never  liked  to  go  on  the  Mississippi 
River  when  it  was  frozen  over.  That  was  not 
instinct.  Do  you  suppose  there  is  a  man  in 
Rock  Island  who  knew  better  than  I  did  just 
where  the  Mississippi  River  was,  just  what  it 
was?  Why,  I  have  seen  it  and  looked  at  it 
and  studied  and  thought  about  it  for  hours, 
more  than  my  master  ever  did;  because  I 
have  been  tied  upon  its  banks  a  thousand  times, 
have  stood  hours  and  looked  at  that  great 
expanse  of  water  flowing  between  the  two 
cities;  have  seen  the  boats  going  up  and  down 
on  its  bosom;  have  watched  the  ferry  go  and 
come,  and  come  and  go  hour  after  hour,  day 
after  day,  month  after  month  and  year  after 
year,  as  I  stood  in  front  of  the  office  on  Eight- 
eenth Street.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  I  was 
suspicious  of  it,  although  it  was  frozen  over  and 


INSTINCT    OR    REASON?    191 

snow  on  it,  and  there  was  a  track  and  other 
horses  had  been  across? 

That  is  not  instinct;  that  is  reason.  I  knew 
that  great  body  of  water.  I  was  afraid  that 
the  ice-bridge  would  not  hold.  I  have  crossed 
the  Mississippi  River  hundreds  of  times  on  the 
ice:  I  never  yet  stepped  foot  upon  it  that  I 
was  not  more  or  less  afraid;  I  never  yet  stepped 
foot  off  from  it  when  I  was  not  glad  that  I  was 
again  safely  over  the  river. 

I  was  always  more  afraid  of  the  ice  than  of 
the  ferry,  —  I  rather  liked  the  ferry.  The 
owner  of  the  ferry  was  our  special  friend,  the 
Captain,  and  he  always  gave  us  a  pass;  so  half 
the  time,  instead  of  going  round  by  the  long 
bridge,  we  would  go  on  the  ferry.  I  was  a  little 
afraid  at  first;  it  took  me  some  time  to  get  used 
to  the  jiggly,  apron-like  bridge  over  which  we  had 
to  pass  to  get  from  the  ground  to  the  ferry  dock. 
When  once  I  was  on  the  little  dock,  I  no  longer 
felt  afraid;  but  I  got  used  to  all  of  it  and 
learned  to  enjoy  the  ferry. 

It  would  not  be  fair  to  the  animals  if  they 
had   no  reasoning  power.     Domestic  as  well  as 


192  DON 

wild  animals  are  constantly,  every  day  of  their 
lives,  getting  into  places  and  positions  where 
they  have  to  decide  between  issues;  and  they 
are  going  to  make  their  decision  intelligently  or 
unintelligently.  As  a  rule  an  animal,  left  to  him- 
self, makes  an  intelligent  decision;  and  it  seems 
to  me  and  to  my  master  that  man  takes  upon 
himself  great  authority,  authority  which  cer- 
tainly is  not  vested  in  man,  when  he  says  that 
animals  do  not  reason. 


XXXVIII 

SOMEONE  FORGOT 

^  HADN'T  any  idea  of  relating  this  bit  of 
my  history  when  I  began  to  write  my 
book;  and  I  am  not  doing  it  now  for  the 
purpose  of  blaming  anyone,  or  for  drawing  upon 
the  sympathy  of  my  readers;  but,  to  show  how 
completely  we  horses  are  dependent  upon  our 
owners,  and  how  easy  it  is  to  make  us  bear 
needless  suffering  and  exposure  and  loss  of  rest, 
I   am   going   to   tell   of   two    occasions   when    I 


SOMEONE    FORGOT  193 

stood  on  the  street  all  night,  because  my  master 
forgot  me.  I  don't  wish  the  readers  to  blame 
him;  I  don't  blame  him  myself,  for  I  know  just 
how  tired  he  was  and  just  how  many  things  he 
had  on  his  mind.  It  was  at  the  time  of  year 
when  we  were  the  busiest  and  of  course  it  came 
harder  upon  me  than  it  would  any  other  time; 
because  when  my  master  was  busy,  tired  and 
forgetful,  that  was  the  time  when  I  was  over- 
worked and  especially  in  need  of  my  rest. 

One  evening  in  November,  1888,  my  master 
drove  me  to  the  office  in  Rock  Island.  He 
didn't  usually  do  this  unless  he  had  some  spe- 
cial work  to  do  after  office  hours.  He  preferred 
that  I  should  stay  in  the  barn  and  get  my  rest 
and  that  he  take  the  short  walk  to  the  office,  of 
seven  blocks  (less  than  half  a  mile),  for  his 
evening  hours.  This  evening,  however,  as  he 
was  especially  tired  and  was  afraid  there  would 
be  some  calls  to  make  after  office  hours,  he 
drove  me  up  and  tied  me  to  the  ring  in  the 
sidewalk  in  front  of  the  office,  where  I  have 
been  tied  so  many  hundred  times.  Well  I  re- 
member that  evening:    it  seemed  to  me  as  if  he 


194  DON 

would  never  get  through  his  office  work  and 
come  out  and  take  me  home  where  I  could  get 
out  of  my  harness  and  have  some  hay  to  eat 
and  some  water  to  drink,  and  my  nice  clean 
bed  to  lie  down  in.  First  one  person  and  then 
another  kept  going  into  the  office.  You  haven't 
any  idea  how  I  watched  that  door  and  wished 
the  people  would  stop  going  in,  so  that  my 
master  could  take  me  home. 

By  and  by  the  last  patient  did  come  out,  and 
through  the  glass  in  the  big  doors  I  could  see 
my  master  getting  ready  to  go  home.  He  put 
on  his  overcoat  and  hat,  turned  out  the  elec- 
tric light  in  the  inner  office  and  locked  the 
door.  He  never  turned  out  the  light  in  the 
outer  office  or  locked  that  door.  Soon  he 
stepped  out  on  the  sidewalk.  I  gave  a  sigh  of 
relief  thinking  that  now  we  were  going  home,  — 
but  what  do  you  think.?  My  master  never 
looked  at  me!  He  seemed  tired  and  absorbed; 
he  was  looking  at  the  ground.  He  came  down 
the  steps  to  the  sidewalk,  turned  and  walked 
slowly  and  with  an  air  of  preoccupation  towards 
Second    Avenue.      I    thought    perhaps    he    was 


SOMEONE    FORGOT  195 

going  into  the  fruit  store  and  would  surely  soon 
come  back  for  me,  so  I  did  not  speak;  but  he 
did  not  come.  Everybody  on  the  street  went 
home.  The  policeman  passed  and  said,  "Old 
Don,  where  is  your  master.?"  It  seemed  to  me 
he  might  have  known  and  gone  into  the  office 
and  telephoned;  I  tried  to  tell  him,  but  he 
didn't  understand,  and  he  went  away  and  left 
me.  Still  I  stayed  there  and  whinnied  and 
pawed,  started  up  and  backed  and  twisted 
round;  but  nobody  heard  or  understood  me, 
and  nobody  came  to  take  me  home. 

Where  could  my  master  be.?  Slowly  the 
thought  came  over  me,  one  that  I  would  not 
at  first  entertain,  —  my  master  must  have  gone 
home  and  forgotten  me;  and  what  was  I  to  do 
but  stand  there  in  the  chill  night  air  of  Novem- 
ber until  morning.  The  hours  passed,  as  hours 
always  do,  and  the  policeman  came  round  again, 
spoke  to  me,  went  into  my  master's  outer  office, 
and  ate  his  luncheon  as  he  often  did.  The 
watchman  of  the  building  came  and  spoke  to 
me  and  he  went  into  the  outside  office  and  sat 
down.     Why  didn't  those  men   take  down   the 


196  DON 

telephone  and  call  my  master's  house?  How 
could  my  master  sleep  with  his  old  friend  and 
partner  standing  cold  and  tired  upon  the  street? 

Hour  after  hour  passed;  and  when,  as  I 
afterwards  learned,  it  was  about  three  o'clock, 
I  saw  a  short  stocky  man  coming  rapidly  to- 
wards me  from  Third  Avenue.  Joy!  It  was 
Gibson!  I  was  living  in  the  livery  stable  at 
this  time  and  Gibson  had  waited  up  for  my 
master  to  bring  me  home.  He  waited  and 
waited  and  thought  my  master  must  have  a 
long  case;  but  he  would  not  go  to  bed.  Fi- 
nally he  went  to  sleep  on  the  couch.  When  he 
awoke  and  rubbed  his  eyes  and  found  that  it 
was  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  I  had 
not  been  brought  home,  he  said  it  occurred  to 
him  all  at  once  that  perhaps  the  doctor  had 
forgotten  Old  Don  and  left  him  at  the  office; 
and,  as  it  was  not  far  and  he  didn't  want  to  go 
to  bed  without  knowing  that  I  was  taken  care 
of,  he  thought  he  would  step  round  to  the 
office  and  see,  —  and  sure  enough,  there  I  stood. 

Just  as  we  got  into  the  stable  the  telephone 
rang,  and  my  master  was  on  the  line.     He  had 


SOMEONE    FORGOT  197 

awakened  at  that  same  time  and  was  calling 
Gibson  to  tell  him  to  go  to  the  office  for  Old 
Don. 

That  was  the  longest  night  I  ever  remember. 
I  didn't  really  suffer.  I  was  not  cold  enough 
to  be  hurt.  It  was  simply  that  I  didn't  want 
to  stand  there;  the  time  was  long  and  I  was 
tired  and  chilly  and  hungry.  I  wonder  if  it 
would  have  been  better  not  to  tell  this  story  .f' 
Yes,  I  think  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well,  —  pos- 
sibly it  may  do  some  good;  and  as  it  was  one 
of  the  events  (I  assure  you  it  was  quite  an 
event)  in  my  life,  I  guess  it  properly  belongs 
here. 

I  might  add  that  my  master  was  particularly 
good  to  me  for  a  few  days  after  that.  I  didn't 
have  to  work  the  next  day.  Gibson  furnished 
Master  a  horse  and  I  had  a  whole  day  off  in 
the  busiest  season  of  the  year. 

The  other  time  that  my  master  left  me  out 
is  so  nearly  a  duplicate  of  the  one  just  related 
I  shall  not  go  into  the  details;  but  simply  say 
that  it  occurred  the  next  spring.  I  didn't 
have   such    an    uncomfortable    time,    because   it 


198  DON 

was  warmer  and  I  was  not  left  so  long.  Gib- 
son said  this  time  he  was  "wise  to  the  situa- 
tion," and  only  waited  until  about  one  o'clock, 
when  he  decided  to  take  a  walk  down  to  the 
office  to  see  if  the  same  thing  that  happened 
in  November  had  not  been  repeated.  Funny! 
All  the  time  that  I  stood  there  I  was  waiting 
for  Gibson.  I  felt  as  soon  as  my  master  came 
out  of  the  office  that  he  was  going  to  leave  me. 
I  ought  to  have  called;  I  should  again,  but  I 
was  so  surprised  and  hurt  to  be  left  a  second 
time  that  I  kept  hoping,  until  he  got  round  the 
corner,  that  he  would  remember  me.  Then  I 
whinnied;  but  by  that  time  he  was  so  far  down 
Second  Avenue  that  the  high  buildings  between 
him  and  me  prevented  him  from  hearing  me. 

As  soon  as  we  were  in  the  stable  Gibson 
called  up  my  master  and  told  him  that  he  had 
discovered  me.  Master  felt  mighty  sorry;  he 
came  to  see  me  early  the  next  morning,  took 
me  out  of  the  stall,  rubbed  my  nose  and  shoul- 
ders and  legs,  patted  me,  said  he  was  sorry  and 
that  he  would  never  do  it  again.  I  got  another 
vacation  of  a  whole  day. 


WE    LOSE    OUR    BESS         199 

XXXIX 

WE  LOSE  OUR  BESS 

yv  ESS  had  been  my  constant  companion 
~y\  for  twelve  years.  As  I  have  said,  there 
■^-^'^  was  a  time  that  my  master  was  away 
from  me  more  or  less,  and  at  intervals  the 
whole  family;  but  Bess  was  never  separated 
from  me  a  whole  week  at  a  time.  One  who 
has  not  given  it  thought  could  hardly  imagine 
what  close  friends  a  horse  and  a  dog  can  be- 
come in  twelve  years.  You  see  our  friendship 
was  different  from  that  of  most  horses  and  dogs. 
Bess  always  went  with  me,  and  stayed  with  me 
a  great  deal:  there  was  hardly  a  day  that  she 
didn't  come  into  the  stall  to  see  me  and  talk  to 
me  in  the  way  that  she  had.  She  sometimes 
talked  audibly.  I  have  known  her  to  stand 
outside  the  stall  and  bark  for  five  minutes  at 
a  time.  She  didn't  quite  like  it  because  I 
wasn't  free  to  go  and  come  as  she  did:  she 
wanted  me  to  come  out  and  run  and  play  with 
her. 

I  had  a  habit  with  Bess  which  at  first  fright- 


200  DON 

ened  my  master,  and  especially  my  mistress, 
very  much.  When  Bess  would  come  into  the 
stall  sometimes  I  would  be  so  glad  to  see  her 
that  I  would  open  my  mouth  and  take  her 
whole  body  in  as  if  I  were  going  to  bite  her  in 
two;  but  of  course  I  never  in  all  my  life  did 
such  a  thing  as  even  nip  Bess. 

Well,  she  didn't  stay  with  us  long  after  we 
came  to  Boston.  I  didn't  see  so  much  of  her 
in  Boston,  because  my  stable  was  a  little  way 
from  the  house;  but  for  a  time  I  saw  her  every 
day  and  some  days  a  good  deal,  especially  when 
I  was  driving;  for  then  she  was  inevitably  with 
us.  We  had  such  good  times  that  first  summer 
in  Boston.  We  were  not  so  busy  then  and  we 
went  to  drive  a  great  deal  for  pleasure,  and  of 
course  Bess  went  too.  I  don't  beHeve  she  ever 
enjoyed  running  and  playing  in  Boston  as  she 
used  to  in  Rock  Island;  and  as  I  now  think  it 
over,  I  remember  how  much  she  had  to  get 
into  the  buggy  with  my  master.  I  was  willing 
to  have  Bess  ride,  and  yet  I  always  enjoyed  it 
more  when  she  was  along  with  me  on  the  road. 

She  rarely  went  with  us  after  the  first  sum- 


WE    LOSE    OUR    BESS         201 

mer,  and  the  winter  of  1896  and  1897  she  was 
sick  most  of  the  time.  I  saw  her  often  even 
then  but  not  every  day.  I  know  my  master 
was  worried  about  her,  because  he  was  so  care- 
ful of  her  whenever  she  went  out,  which  was 
only  occasionally,  and  then  he  always  took  her 
in  the  buggy  or  sleigh   and  never  let  her  run. 

Then  there  came  a  time  when  I  did  not  see 
her  at  all,  and  I  remember  my  master  patting 
me  and  stroking  my  nose  and  saying:  "Old 
Don,  I  guess  the  time  is  soon  coming  when 
you  and  I  have  got  to  do  this  business  alone. 
I  am  afraid  Bess's  work  is  about  over." 

After  that  one  day  when  I  was  tied  in  front 
of  the  house,  and  my  master  came  out  to  go 
away,  Bess  came  to  the  door  and  out  on  the 
porch.  She  looked  so  natural,  that  old  sweet 
expression  in  her  face.  I  wish  I  could  describe 
to  you  the  expression  that  Bess  had  in  her 
face;  I  am  afraid  we  haven't  a  picture  that 
half  tells  you  all  it  said.  She  had  that  day  a 
soft,  plaintive  look  such  as  you  sometimes  see 
in  the  face  of  the  most  delicate  and  lovable 
woman. 


202  DON 

It  always  seemed  to  me  that  Bess  had  the 
prettiest  face  that  ever  a  dog  had,  and  few 
human  beings  have  a  more  expressive  counte- 
nance. How  many  times  I  have  heard  people 
on  the  street  admire  her  face.  I  remember 
once  in  Rock  Island  a  man,  a  stranger,  stopped 
my  master  and  asked  him  where  he  got  that 
dog,  and  my  master  told  him  we  raised  her. 
"Well,"  said  the  man,  "I  can  tell  you  who  her 
father  was.  She  is  a  daughter  of  Champion 
Argus";  and  you  know  I  have  told  you  that 
she  was.  Then  he  went  on  and  detailed  to  my 
master  all  about  her  splendid  pedigree,  and 
that  wonderful  countenance.  He  said,  "I 
should  know  that  face  among  ten  thousand 
dogs;  few  of  Argus's  children  had  her  wonderful 
expression." 

My  master  was  so  much  interested  in  the 
man  that  he  asked  him  to  get  into  the  buggy; 
they  rode  around  the  streets  awhile  and  then 
we  took  him  home  to  dinner.  He  proved  to 
be  Gentry,  the  great  bird  man  of  Philadelphia, 
who  probably  knew  more  about  dogs  and  birds 
than  almost  any  other  man  in  the  United  States. 


WE    LOSE    OUR    BESS         203 

I  like  to  digress  from  the  subject  of  this 
chapter.  I  could,  and  it  would  be  pleasanter, 
go  on  for  pages  about  Bess  and  her  beautiful 
face  and  body  and  her  beautiful  dog  disposi- 
tion; but  this  is  devoted  to  a  sadder  purpose, 
—  a  description  of  her  last  days. 

The  day  that  she  came  out  on  the  porch  with 
my  master  was  in  the  spring  of  1897  and  it  was 
the  last  time  I  ever  saw  her  alive.  I  am  rather 
glad  I  didn't  see  her  again:  I  want  to  remember 
that  look,  the  beautiful  face,  those  fathomless 
eyes  and  that  affectionate  wag  of  the  tail.  I 
hope  the  reader  will  pardon  me  for  all  of  this 
description.  He  may  think  I  am  writing  enough 
to  describe  the  character  and  beauty  of  a  man 
or  woman,  but  I  believe  that  Bess  was  worthy 
of  everything  that  I  have  said.  I  don't  know 
why,  when  an  animal  has  lived  a  faithful,  use- 
ful, honest  life,  his  praises  should  not  be  sung 
just  as  well  as  a  man's  would  be.  Bess,  barring 
her  dog  limitations,  was  just  as  good  and  honor- 
able and  worthy  as  any  man  or  woman. 

On  the  second  morning  when  Master  came 
into  the  stable  he  was  very  sad.     I  knew  some- 


204  DON 

thing  awful  had  happened,  and  as  he  came  up 
and  stroked  my  nose,  he  said:  "Old  Don,  you 
and  I  must  conduct  this  business  alone  now: 
our  right  hand  man  and  best  fellow  has  gone; 
Bess  has  gone  where  good  dogs  go." 

I  don't  think  I  knew  exactly  what  he  meant, 
but  I  knew  that  it  was  pretty  bad.  The  next 
day,  while  I  was  hitched  in  front  of  the  door, 
I  saw  my  master  and  his  brother  George  (not 
the  doctor)  and  his  nephew  preparing  a  box. 
I  heard  Master  say  —  and  I  saw  tears  in  his 
eyes  —  "How  beautiful  Bess  looks!  She  truly 
has  been  a  good  soldier,  and  deserves  the 
American  flag."  Then  the  three  boys  together, 
with  Mistress  looking  on,  lowered  the  box  into 
a  little  grave  which  they  had  excavated  in  the 
back  yard,  and  covered  up  the  beautiful  body 
of  our  Gordon  setter. 

Few  animals,  if  any,  ever  had  a  brighter, 
happier,  more  useful  life,  or  have  been  more 
sincerely  mourned  and  "decently"  buried  than 
was  our  lovable  Bess.  I  have  heard  people 
criticised  for  mourning  the  loss  of  animals,  but 
I    fully    agree    with    Master    that    there    is    no 


ACCIDENTS    TO    OTHERS    205 

reason  why  a  man  should  not  mourn  the  loss 
of  so  faithful  a  friend  and  associate  as  Bess 
had  been  to  our  family  for  almost  thirteen  years. 
Master  says  he  wishes  there  were  crematories 
for  animals  as  there  are  for  people;  as  it  is  so 
much  better  and  easier  to  give  one's  friends  to 
the  pure,  clean,  beautiful  flames,  than  to  put 
them  into  the  cold,  damp,  dark  ground. 


XL 

ACCIDENTS    TO  OTHERS 

THINK  it  a  good  record  that,  in  twenty- 
five  years  of  actual  hard  work  upon  the 
street,  I  have  never  but  twice  even  come 
near  hurting  anyone.  Once  in  Rock  Island  on 
Third  Avenue  in  front  of  the  Tuegler  Block  I 
was  trotting  along  at  a  pretty  good  jog,  when 
a  drunken  man  reeled  and  staggered  from  the 
sidewalk  right  in  front  of  me;  and  before  I 
could  possibly  stop  (my  master  jerked  me  so 
hard,  and  I  myself  tried  to  stop  so  quickly,  I 
was  thrown  on  my  haunches),  I   had   run    into 


2o6  DON 

and  knocked  the  man  heavily  to  the  ground. 
We  thought  he  must  be  badly  injured.  Mas- 
ter jumped  out  and  ran  to  the  man  and  helped 
him  up,  examined  him  to  see  if  he  were  injured, 
and  offered  to  take  him  home.  On  close  in- 
spection it  was  found  that  he  was  not  hurt  at 
all,  but  very  much  sobered.  The  man,  a  work- 
man from  the  sawmill,  apologized,  said  he  was 
wholly  to  blame,  and  that  it  was  a  good  warn- 
ing to  him  to  keep  his  head  in  the  future. 

The  only  other  time  that  I  just  escaped  in- 
juring someone  was  on  Beacon  Street,  Boston, 
at  the  Tremont  Street  crossing.  There  was  a 
big  crowd  of  teams  and  people.  I  was  walking 
very  slowly;  and,  just  as  I  came  to  the  cross- 
walk, a  woman  dodged  under  my  very  feet. 
I  stepped  on  her  dress,  and  of  course  that  held 
her.  Before  I  knew  or  thought  what  I  was 
doing,  I  had  put  the  other  foot  forward,  and 
by  this  time  had  her  dress  skirt  nearly  torn  off. 
We  stopped  and  Master  apologized  and  offered 
to  pay  for  her  dress. 

Just  then  the  policeman  came  up  and  said: 
"Mosey    along;      nobody    to     blame     but     the 


THE    DISAGREEMENT      207 

woman.  She  ought  to  be  very  thankful  she  was 
not  badly  hurt.  I  saw  her  go  right  under  the 
horse's  nose,  when  she  knew  I  had  given  the 
right  of  way  to  the  teams." 

We  were  very  thankful,  anyway,  that  no  one 
was  hurt. 


XLI 

THE  DISAGREEMENT  BETWEEN 
MASTER  AND  MYSELF 

"^^ERHAPS  I  ought  not  to  use  the  above 
words,  because  as  a  matter  of  fact  Master, 
•^-^  Bess  and  myself  have  usually  been  of  one 
mind;  but  I  have  told  you  how  Bess  once 
opposed  our  master:  I  must  tell  you  of  just 
one  "falling-out"  that  he  and  I  had. 

It  was  after  we  came  to  Boston.  For  a  num- 
ber of  years  my  master  had  a  great  deal  to  do 
with  the  church  near  where  we  live.  There 
was  never  a  fair  or  annual  supper  or  anything 
that  required  the  fixing  up  and  decorating  of 
the  church  that  I  was  not  impressed  into  ser- 
vice more  or  less:    bringing  potted   plants,   the 


2o8  DON 

lumber  to  make  booths,  people  who  lived  re- 
mote from  the  church;  and,  at  the  time  of  the 
entertainment  or  celebration,  bringing  the  aged 
and  infirm  to  the  church,  and  taking  them 
home  afterwards.  All  of  this  I  was  very  glad 
to  do,  because  it  seemed  proper  and  in  my 
line,  and  it  pleased  my  master. 

During  the  summer  for  a  great  many  years 
my  master  had  the  care  of  fixing  up  and  repair- 
ing the  church.  I  don't  mean  that  he  actually 
did  the  work,  but  he  had  to  see  that  it  was 
done;  and  one  day  he  was  really  helping  the 
janitor  fix  the  walk  that  leads  to  the  church. 
The  water  had  washed  out  the  gravel  from  this 
walk  down  to  the  sidewalk,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  no  way  to  stop  it.  My  master  had  found 
a  big  flat  stone  not  far  away  that  the  work- 
men had  left  from  some  building  operations, 
and  he  wanted  to  bring  that  up  and  place  it 
square  across  the  beginning  of  this  walk,  in 
order  to  prevent  the  gravel  from  washing  down 
on  the  sidewalk.  He  and  the  man  and  the 
janitor  of  the  church  tried  to  bring  it  up,  but 
it     was    too    heavy.     At    last    my    master  told 


THE    DISAGREEMENT       209 

James,  the  man,  to  put  a  heavy  collar  and 
hames  on  me,  which  he  did;  and  they  rigged 
up  some  chains  for  traces  and  borrowed  of  Mr. 
Greenwood  a  whiffletree,  and  thus  harnessed 
me  to  the  rock. 

I  felt  out  of  sorts  and  out  of  place  to  begin 
with;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  a  good  deal  dis- 
gusted; and  yet  I  thought  that  I  had  always 
done  whatever  was  asked  of  me,  and  I  had 
better  try  to  do  this.  When  all  was  ready, 
James  tried  to  lead  me  up  the  street.  I  started, 
expecting  my  load  would  come  right  along 
just  as  a  buggy  had  always  done,  but  it  didn't; 
I  pulled  as  hard  as  I  usually  pulled  to  start  a 
buggy,  and  still  it  didn't  move.  Then  Master 
came  up,  slapped  his  hands  together  and  said: 
"Get  up.  Old  Don,  you  are  still  working  for 
the  church;  you  can  pull  this  rock";  but  the 
chains  began  to  hurt  my  hind  legs,  and  right 
then  and  there  I  balked,  —  I  made  no  further 
effort  to  pull.  I  didn't  believe  I  could  pull 
that  rock,  anyway;  I  felt  that  it  was  an  in- 
dignity heaped  upon  me  to  ask  me  to  do  it, 
and  I  balked. 


2IO  DON 

I  heard  my  master  say:  "I  don't  blame  him 
much.  It  is  new  work  for  him;  it  is  not  just 
his  proper  work.  Take  him  off,  James,  and 
put  him  into  the  barn.  We  will  get  it  some 
other  way."  Before  I  got  half  way  to  the  barn 
the  ice  man  came  along  with  his  great  horses 
accustomed  to  pulling  heavy  loads.  "Hold  on 
there,"  he  said,  "I  will  take  that  up  for  you." 
He  unhooked  his  off  horse,  attached  him  to  the 
same  chains  and  whiffletree  from  which  they 
had  Just  loosened  me,  and  in  less  than  five 
minutes  they  had  in  place  the  rock  which  I 
could  not  and  would  not  pull. 

We  have  never  had  any  other  disagreement. 
I  think  it  is  well  when  you  are  clearly  imposed 
upon  to  show  that  you  do  not  approve  of  it. 
I  believe  my  master,  and  in  fact  all  of  the 
neighborhood,  has  had  more  respect  for  me 
ever  since. 


LESSONS   FROM  EXPERIENCE    211 

XLII 

SOME    THINGS   WHICH  I  KNOW 
FROM  EXPERIENCE 

T  is  not  my  intention  to  moralize,  and  yet 
one  cannot  avoid  it  altogether;  and  I  must 
speak  of  the  things  which  have  come  di- 
rectly in  my  way.  If  in  so  doing  I  can  benefit 
others,  then  my  book  will  serve  the  double 
purpose  of  detaiHng  the  interesting  features 
of  my  life,  and  possibly  improving  the  lot  of 
other   horses. 

I  want  to  call  your  attention  to  blinders: 
I  have  never  been  able  to  see  any  use  in  them, 
—  some  call  them  blinkers.  I  never  wore  them 
much  and  perhaps  I  am  not  the  best  judge  of 
the  good  or  harm  that  they  do.  Having  worn 
them  so  very  little,  they  naturally  would  be  a 
great  nuisance  to  me.  It  seems  to  me,  however, 
that  I  have  worn  them  enough  so  that  if  they 
were  any  use  whatever  I  should  have  discovered 
it;  and  I  have  gone  without  blinders  so  many 
years,   and   have  driven  so  many  thousands  of 


212  DON 

miles  without  them,  that  if  there  was  any 
good  in  them  I  should  have  missed  it. 

In  the  first  place  on  a  warm  day  they  are 
very  hot;  in  the  second  place  they  occupy  such 
a  position  in  relation  to  the  eyes  that  it  is 
positively  painful  to  see  even  straight  ahead. 
If  you  will  notice,  a  horse's  eyes  are  so  placed 
that  they  see  just  as  readily  from  side  to  side 
as  they  do  straight  ahead,  and  when  the  blinders 
come  close  to  the  side  of  the  head  and  the  eyes, 
they  shut  off  nearly  three-quarters  of  the  vision; 
and  really  make  it  harder  to  see  straight  ahead. 

There  are  owners  and  drivers  of  horses,  too 
many  of  them,  who  seem  to  want  a  horse  to 
be  a  machine,  to  have  no  responsibility  or 
thought;  and  it  sometimes  seems  almost  as  if 
they  would  like  to  have  the  horse  blind.  To 
such  owners  and  drivers  the  blinders  may  be 
desirable;  but  it  has  always  seemed  to  me  that 
a  horse  was  given  eyes  and  a  high  grade  of 
animal  intelligence  with  which  to  see  and  under- 
stand; and  that  the  horse  is  a  better  as  well 
as  a  happier  complement  of  man  when  he  is 
so  trained  and  driven  as  to  aid  and  extend  that 


LESSONS   FROM  EXPERIENCE    213 

intelligence  rather  than  to  curtail  and  practi- 
cally blot  it  ,out. 

I  believe  that  I  have  been  a  more  useful 
horse  in  our  business  and  have  done  better 
service  for  my  master  by  not  wearing  blinders. 
I  will  admit  that  I  have  seen  everything  on  the 
road  and  hence  am  never  afraid  of  anything 
unless  it  be  something  positively  new  and  which 
I  do  not  understand,  like  the  balloon;  but  I 
should  have  been  equally  afraid  of  that  with 
blinders  on,  and  perhaps  more  so.  Without 
blinders  I  could  see  in  all  directions  and  knew 
that  it  was  the  only  strange  thing  about  me. 
Had  I  worn  blinders,  it  seems  to  me  that  1 
might  have  imagined  there  were  about  me  other 
things  of  the  same  character. 

Possibly  I  have  not  been  so  good  a  driving 
horse  by  knowing  exactly  what  was  going  on 
around  me  as  well  as  in  front  of  me,  and  I 
will  admit  further  that  I  have  usually  tried  to 
anticipate  everything  that  my  master  wished. 
I  always  knew  if  he  took  the  whip  out,  because 
I  could  see.  I  always  knew  whether  there  were 
one,   two   or   more   people   in   the   carriage.     Of 


214  DON 

course  I  always  knew  perfectly  whether  it  was 
a  top  carriage  or  an  open  buggy.  I  do  not 
see  any  disadvantage  in  this.  On  the  contrary 
it  has  been  an  advantage  to  me,  and  I  think 
my  master  has  so  regarded  it;  and  I  believe, 
from  my  twenty-four  years  experience  as  a 
doctor's  horse,  that  I  have  been  more  valuable, 
have  done  better  work,  have  given  more  pleas- 
ure to  my  master,  have  been  happier  and  more 
comfortable  myself  for  not  wearing  blinders. 
I  have  given  my  testimony;  you  can  take  it 
for  what  it  is  worth. 

I  have  been  driven  with  a  check  as  much  as 
without  one,  and  possibly  I  am  able  to  give  a 
valuable  ex  parte  opinion.  I  know  what  it  is 
to  wear  a  check.  I  know  what  it  is  to  go  with- 
out it.  I  believe  fully  had  I  never  worn  a 
check  I  would  have  been  a  better,  happier  and 
more  useful  horse;  and  I  am  speaking  of  check- 
ing a  horse  in  moderation.  I  was  never  checked 
high,  and  never  wore  the  overdraw,  —  in  my 
opinion  the  abomination  of  all  checks.  I  know 
about  the  overdraw,  have  often  seen  it;  in 
fact  we  have  had  horses  in  our  barn  that  were 


LESSONS   FROM  EXPERIENCE    215 

driven  with  it.  They  have  always  said  it  was 
very  disagreeable  and  sometimes  positively  pain- 
ful; it  looks  that  way  to  me.  A  check-rein 
of  the  ordinary  side-drawing  kind,  not  buckled 
up  tight  enough  to  hold  your  head  higher  than 
you  naturally  would,  is  not  particularly  bad, 
but  it  leads  to  evil  results  I  think.  If  a  horse 
gets  tired,  or  as  he  gets  older,  he  learns  to  de- 
pend upon  the  check  somewhat  to  hold  his  head 
up,  whereas  it  would  be  much  better  for  the 
horse  always  to  depend  upon  himself. 

The  only  real  use  that  I  can  see  for  the  check- 
rein  is  to  keep  a  badly  trained  horse  from 
grazing  if  he  is  standing  where  there  is  grass; 
and  a  much  better  method  for  preventing  that 
sort  of  thing  is  the  one  to  which  my  master 
has  often  resorted,  not  only  in  my  own  case 
but  with  other  horses  which  we  have  had  in 
the  stable:  that  is,  tying  a  knot  in  the  Hnes, 
making  them  just  short  enough  when  dropped 
over  the  dash  to  prevent  a  horse  from  getting 
his  head  to  the  ground. 

I  believe  that  a  horse  rests  much  better 
when  standing  without  the  check,   and   that  is 


2i6  DON 

one  very  strong  reason  why  at  least  a  doctor's 
horse  should  never  be  checked.  Of  course 
there  is  occasionally  a  driver  who  loosens  the 
check  whenever  he  stops  his  horse,  but  I 
should  say  that  was  not  one  in  fifty.  If  my 
experience  of  twenty-four  years  in  active  prac- 
tical service  is  worth  anything,  I  should  like 
to  state  here  in  as  emphatic  language  as  I  know 
how  to  use,  that  the  check  in  all  of  its  forms  is 
a  positive  nuisance,  a  detriment  to  any  horse; 
that  in  its  more  severe  form,  like  the  tight  side- 
check  or  the  overdraw,  it  has  very  grave 
objections. 

The  part  of  the  harness  which  passes  under 
the  horse's  tail  is  another  source  of  great  irri- 
tation when  not  properly  adjusted.  I  myself 
have  suffered  much  from  this;  and,  although  I 
cannot  suggest  a  remedy,  it  does  seem  as  if 
that  might  be  done  away  with.  I  have  heard 
Master  say  that  if  we  did  not  check  horses  it 
would  not  be  necessary  to  wear  the  crupper. 
For  years  at  a  time  I  have  worn  a  harness 
without  either  check  or  crupper,  and  have  been 
perfectly  happy;    nevertheless  the  modern  way 


LESSONS   FROM   EXPERIENCE    217 

of  driving  a  horse  without  a  breeching  is,  ac- 
cording to  my  thinking,  an  abomination.  I 
have  never  been  driven  without  one  enough  to 
know  that  I  could  not  get  used  to  it,  but  it 
seems  to  me,  while  the  horse  has  less  harness 
on,  and  perhaps  looks  better,  there  is  much 
greater  danger  of  hurting  the  back,  and  in  fact 
of  hurting  the  body,  from  buckling  the  girths  of 
the  jack-saddle  as  tightly  as  they  have  to  be 
to  hold  all  the  weight  of  the  carriage  back  when 
going  down  hill. 

A  collar,  if  it  fits  properly,  is  much  easier 
in  pulling  a  heavy  carriage  than  what  is  known 
as  the  breast-plate,  but  it  must  fit.  It  cannot 
be  too  large  or  too  small;  the  bevel  must  be 
just  right  to  fit  the  shoulders,  and  the  tugs 
must  draw  right  from  the  hames.  Also  the 
imperfectly  fitting  jack-saddle  upon  the  back 
causes  much  suffering,  even  if  it  does  not  wear 
off  the  hair  and  make  an  actual  sore.  Anybody 
would  know,  if  he  were  to  stop  and  think,  that 
the  constant  wearing  of  the  harness  upon  the 
body  would  hurt.  Of  course  it  is  easier  to 
tell  a  poorly-fitting  harness  after  it  has  made  a 


2i8  DON 

sore,  and  few  drivers  are  cruel  enough  to  put 
on  a  harness  after  discovering  it;  but  it  is 
better  to  take  much  pains  to  learn  that  the 
harness  does  irritate  and  will  make  a  sore  than 
to  make  a  horse  wear  it  until  the  mischief 
is  done.  This  has  never  happened  to  me, 
although  at  different  times  a  new  harness  has 
hurt  me;  but  I  have  seen  on  horses  great  sores 
made  by  the  harness,  and  have  heard  other 
horses  tell  how  their  harnesses  hurt  them,  and 
what  awful  sores  they  have  had  in  the  past 
from  imperfectly  fitting  jack-saddles. 

So  my  experience  would  lead  me  to  do  away 
with  the  blinkers,  the  check-rein,  and  the 
crupper,  to  make  all  other  parts  of  the  harness 
fit  the  particular  horse  upon  which  it  is  to  be 
put,  and  watch  closely  that  no  parts  gall;  then 
I  believe  the  horse  would  be  more  useful,  would 
last  longer  and  be  happier. 

One  thing  which  I  have  neglected  to  speak 
of  that  causes  much  irritation  is  the  buckle 
which  fastens  the  breeching  to  the  back-strap. 
It  is  always  catching  the  horse's  tail  on  one 
side  or  the   other  and   rendering  it   for  a   long 


LESSONS   FROM  EXPERIENCE    219 

time  partially  inactive.  In  **  fly-time"  this 
makes  the  horse  suffer  more  than  one  would 
think,  besides  in  time  very  much  depleting  the 
tail,  his  only  weapon  of  defense  at  that  season 
of  the   year. 

I  think  many,  perhaps  the  majority,  of  horses 
have  to  wear  harnesses  with  all  these  objec- 
tionable features,  because  no  one  of  the  re- 
formers, or  people  who  favor  such  reforms,  has 
suggested  and  seen  to  it  that  harness-makers 
manufacture  the  kind  of  harness  that  he  has 
recommended;  so  that,  when  a  man  who  per- 
haps favors  the  reform  goes  to  his  harness- 
maker,  he  cannot  buy  such  a  harness;  and, 
needing  one,  he  buys  such  as  he  can  and  puts 
it  on  his  horse.  You  meet  him  on  the  street 
and  he  will  say  he  does  not  approve  of  blinders, 
of  check-reins,  or  cruppers,  or  improperly  placed 
buckles;  but  he  has  not  the  ingenuity  or  force 
of  character  to  make  the  corrections  in  his  own 
harness  that  he  believes  in. 


220  DON 

XLIII 
BESS,    THE   BUCK  MARE 

HOPE  no  one  reading  this  book  will  con- 
found Bess  the  horse  with  Bess  the  dog. 
Just  why  my  master  should  have  given  the 
same  name  to  these  two  members  of  his  family 
I  do  not  know.  I  know  that  Bess,  the  setter, 
came  into  the  family  almost  as  soon  as  I  did, 
and  lived  with  us  all  of  those  twelve  years; 
but  the  horse  did  not  come  to  us  until  long 
after  Bess  had  passed  away.  I  believe  I  heard 
my  master  say  that  my  mistress  called  the 
horse  after  our  faithful   Bess. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  Bess  in  connection 
with  other  horses  I  have  known  and  with  whom 
I  have  lived.  We  (I  mean  Prince  and  myself) 
were  living  in  a  large  stable  near  the  bridge  on 
Harvard  Street,  when  Bess  came  to  us  a  few 
months  before  we  moved  to  our  present 
home. 

I  didn't  particularly  like  her  at  first.  She 
seemed  cross  and  disagreeable  and  snappy, 
and    was    always    meddling.     If    she    ever    got 


BESS,    THE    BLACK    MARE    221 

loose  she  wandered  around  the  stable  which 
was  large,  and  where,  of  course,  there  were 
other  horses.  I  remember  one  day  she  slipped 
her  head  out  of  the  halter  and  went  about 
eating  up  the  other  horses'  bedding.  She  got 
behind  a  horse  belonging  to  Dr.  King,  and  he 
kicked  her.  Oh,  he  did  kick  an  awful  hole  in 
her  hind  leg!  It  made  us  all  fairly  shudder; 
it  was  such  a  big  hole  and  bled  so  much.  When 
the  doctor  first  saw  it  he  said  it  was  so  big  he 
could  have  put  both  fists  into  it.  I  remember 
how  ugly  Bess  was  when  the  doctor  tried  to 
dress  it.  She  fought  and  kicked  every  time; 
but  it  finally  got  well. 

This  is  not  what  I  started  to  tell.  I  merely 
wanted  properly  to  introduce  Bess.  Shortly 
after  this  happened  we  moved  to  the  stable  on 
Harvard  and  Gleason  Streets  in  which  I  am 
now  living.  We  went  before  the  doctor's 
family  moved  into  the  house;  but  from  the  first 
day  the  man  stayed  on  the  premises.  His 
name  was  Mike.  He  was  a  pretty  good  man, 
good  to  horses,  but  rather  awkward.  The 
second    or  third    day  he   neglected    to  close  the 


222  DON 

trap  door.  The  bedding  and  dressing  were  put 
down  through  this  door  from  the  stable  into 
the  cellar.  I,  of  course,  knew  that  the  door 
was  up;  in  fact  I  usually  know  about  how 
things  are  in  the  stable.  As  it  is  my  home,  I 
am  interested  and  always  look  around;  and  if 
things  are  out  of  place,  I  know  it.  I  supposed 
that  Bess  and  Prince  knew  the  door  was  up,  — 
I  am  sure  Prince  did,  —  but  Bess  was  young  and 
green,  awkward  and  careless,  and  was  always 
nosing  around. 

She  wasn't  hitched,  and  the  rope  which 
enclosed  the  stall  was  not  up  back  of  her; 
so  the  first  thing  I  knew  she  was  backing  out. 
I  supposed  then  she  saw  the  open  trap  door, 
but  evidently  she  did  not,  for  suddenly  down 
went  her  hind  legs  into  that  hole.  I  looked 
around  and  saw  her  forward  legs  and  head 
sticking  up  through  the  hole;  then  they  dis- 
appeared and  I  could  see  nothing.  In  a  minute 
I  heard  her  walking  about  down  there  munch- 
ing the  bedding.  Bess  was  such  a  pig  to  eat; 
but  I  have  heard  Master  say  that  she  was 
young,    and    that    all    young    horses    want    to 


BESS,    THE    BLACK    MARE    223 

eat  a  lot.  I  don't  believe  I  did  when  I  was 
young. 

In  a  few  minutes  Mike  came  in.  Didn't 
he  look  scared!  He  saw  at  once  that  he  had 
left  the  door  up  and  that  the  mare  was  gone; 
and,  looking  through  into  the  cellar,  he  saw 
Bess.  I  don't  know  why,  but  the  first  thing 
he  did  was  to  put  down  the  trap  door  as  if  he 
thought  Bess  would  come  up  out  of  there  and 
get  into  more  mischief.  Then  he  went  out  and 
shut  the  barn  doors. 

Some  men  were  working  on  the  cellar  to  the 
new  office  which  the  doctor  was  building. 
Mike  called  them  and  in  a  minute  I  heard  them 
digging  very  fast  underneath  me.  I  guessed 
then,  what  I  afterwards  learned,  that  they 
were  digging  a  trench  so  that  Bess  could  walk 
out  of  the  cellar.  There  was  no  way  that  a 
horse,  or  man  either  for  that  matter,  could 
get  out  of  that  cellar  except  through  the 
windows,  or  back  up  through  that  trap  door 
through  which  Bess  had  fallen. 

The  doctor  had  been  in  the  stable  only  once 
or  twice  since  we  went  over;    but  pretty  soon 


224  DON 

he  came  in.  I  could  see  how  surprised  he  was 
when  he  discovered  Bess  was  not  there.  He 
always  talks  to  the  horses,  and,  after  a  glance 
at  the  stalls,  he  said: 

"  Where  is  Bess.?  I  guess  Mike  has  taken 
her  to  the  blacksmith's."  The  stable  was  new, 
and  the  doctor  went  about  examining  every- 
thing. One  of  the  first  things  he  did  was  to 
take  hold  of  the  trap  door  and  lift  it  up;  and 
I  can  even  now  see  the  look  of  astonishment 
that  came  on  his  face  when  he  saw  Bess  down 
in  the  cellar  munching  bedding.  When  he 
found  that  she  was  not  hurt,  but  appeared 
well  and  happy,  and  up  to  her  usual  occupa- 
tion of  eating,  he  began  to  figure  how  he  could 
get  her  out.  On  opening  the  side  door,  he  saw 
the  men  at  work  and  knew  at  once  what  they 
were  doing. 

In  less  than  thirty  minutes  from  the  time 
Bess  fell  in,  Mike  had  a  tunnel  dug  under  the 
stable  to  her,  and  had  led  her  up  and  into  her 
stall,  none  the  worse  for  her  sudden  fall. 

One  would  suppose  that  would  have  cured 
her   of   her   nosiness    and    curiosity    and    always 


BESS,    THE    BLACK    MARE    225 

getting  out  of  the  stall  when  she  could;  but  it 
did  not.  In-  fact  you  cannot  blame  a  horse. 
I  myself  like  to  get  out  of  my  stall  when  I  get 
a  chance.  I  tell  you  sometimes  it  is  a  pretty 
tough  life  that  a  horse  has  to  lead,  particularly 
in  hot  weather  in  a  close  stable,  either  tied  by 
the  head  or  strapped  up  into  small  quarters. 
I  shall  be  glad  for  horses  when  the  time  comes 
that  they  are  allowed  more  room  and  more 
freedom. 

I  have  been  reading  what  I  have  written 
about  Bess,  and  it  doesn't  seem  exactly  fair  or 
complimentary.  Bess  really  was  a  very  fine 
horse.  She  was  dark,  black  and  very  dark 
brown;  long  slim  body;  and  when  at  her  best 
she  was  dappled  all  over,  almost  spotted. 
Master  often  said  that  at  certain  seasons  of  the 
year  her  body  was  as  pretty  as  that  of  a  wild 
animal.  In  the  four  years  that  she  lived  in 
our  family  she  did  an  immense  amount  of  hard 
work,  and  was  one  of  the  most  valuable  horses 
we  ever  had. 

The  doctor  sold  her  to  go  on  a  farm  down  at 
the    Cape,    because    the    stone    roads    were    too 


226  DON 

hard  on  her  feet;  and  if  she  had  very  much  to 
do  she  got  quite  lame.  We  were  afraid  that 
she  would  become  a  complete  cripple  if  she 
lived  in  the  city;  so  my  master  sold  her  at  a 
very  low  price,  on  conditions  that  the  man 
would  agree  to  keep  her  on  the  farm,  take  good 
care  of  her,  and  not  work  her  too  hard. 


XLIV 
GRAMPIAN   WAY 

AM  going  to  tell  a  story  which  Prince,  in 
ordinary  horse  language,  told  me;  and 
which  I  have  several  times  heard  my  mas- 
ter repeat  to  friends.  I  also  have  heard  James 
tell  the  same  story  to  his  brother.  This  story 
clearly  illustrates  the  influence  that  the  human 
mind  has  upon  the  mind  of  the  horse. 

One  evening  in  early  spring  my  master  re- 
ceived a  hurried  call  to  go  to  Mr.  Skinner's 
residence  on  Grampian  Way.  Mr.  Skinner 
told  the  doctor  over  the  telephone  that  he 
feared   his   Httle   boy   Charles    had   another   at- 


GRAMPIAN    WAY  227 

tack  of  diphtheria.  A  year  previous  Chadie 
was  very  ill  with  diphtheria,  his  life  hanging 
in  the  balance  for  many  days;  and  of  course 
Mr.  Skinner  was  very  anxious  when  he  thought 
his  little  son  had  a  recurrence  of  the  dread 
disease.  The  doctor  also,  having  had  one  expe- 
rience with  the  case,  was  naturally  apprehensive 
of  another. 

We  knew  when  the  doctor  gave  the  order  for 
a  horse  to  be  hitched  that  something  rather 
unusual  was  the  matter.  Prince  was  selected. 
James  hurriedly  put  on  the  harness,  and  before 
he  was  hitched  the  doctor  was  in  the  buggy 
ready  to  start. 

As  they  went  out  of  the  door,  the  doctor 
told  James  that  he  was  going  to  give  Prince 
his  head,  that  Prince  would  know,  from  the 
great  pressure  on  the  doctor's  mind,  what  was 
wanted  and  where  to  go;  and,  before  they 
reached  the  end  of  the  drive-way  and  entered 
the  street,  the  doctor  dropped  the  lines  upon 
the  dash-board,  took  the  whip  and  just  touched 
Prince  with  it  saying,  *'Now  hurry,  old  man, 
right  over  to  Charlie  Skinner's." 


228  DON 

James  said:  "Prince  won't  go  there;  —  how 
does  he  know  what  you  want?" 

"You  will  see,"  insisted  the  doctor,  "that 
Prince  will  take  us  directly  to  the  house  where 
we  wish  to  go  and  I  shall  not  touch  the  lines. 
More  than  that,  we  haven't  been  to  the  house 
for  over  a  year;  it  is  a  long,  crooked,  circui- 
tous route,  and  we  have  been  going  all  winter 
to  places  and  houses  this  side  of  it.  The  route 
lies,  —  first,  Gleason  to  Harvard  Streets,  across 
Washington  Street  into  Bowdoin  Street,  from 
Bowdoin  Street  into  Hancock,  Hancock  to 
Pleasant,  Pleasant  and  a  right  angle  turn  into 
Savin  Hill  Avenue.  We  have  been  a  hundred 
times  to  places  on  this  route  during  this  year, 
but  never  once  during  the  time  have  we  been 
up  Savin  Hill  as  far  as  Grampian  Way,  and  up 
Grampian  Way  to  Mr.  Skinner's  house.  We 
were  there  many  —  forty  or  fifty  —  times,  a 
year  ago;  but  Prince  will  take  us  by  all  the 
places  where  he  has  been  in  the  last  six  months 
or  a  year,  right  over  the  bridge,  the  Old  Colony 
Railroad  tracks,  up  to  Grampian  Way,  turn 
abruptly  to  the  left  and  to  Mr.  Skinner's  house." 


GRAMPIAN    WAY  229 

All  this  is  what  the  doctor  told  James,  as 
they  hurried -into  Harvard  and  along  Harvard 
Street  to  Washington  and  Bowdoin.  I  do  not 
pretend  to  say  that  Prince  understood  all  that 
the  doctor  was  saying  to  James,  but  the  facts 
are  as  Prince  told  them  to  me,  as  I  have  heard 
the  doctor  tell  repeatedly,  as  James  told  his 
brother.  The  doctor  did  not  take  up  the  lines 
once,  or  in  any  way  indicate  to  Prince  where 
he  should  go,  except  through  the  strong  mental 
pressure  that  was  upon  his  own  brain  to  go  to 
Mr.  Skinner's  house  as  soon  as  possible,  and 
the  strong  desire  that  Mr.  Skinner  had  for  the 
doctor  to  be  there  at  once.  The  facts  are  that 
Prince  kept  right  on  down  Bowdoin  Street 
until  he  came  to  Hancock,  and  then,  without 
hesitation,  turned  to  the  right  on  Hancock 
Street;  kept  along  Hancock  until  he  came  to 
the  corner  of  Pleasant  and  Newport  Streets 
turning  square  to  the  left  into  Pleasant  Street, 
and  along  Pleasant  Street  until  he  came  to 
Savin  Hill  Avenue;  a  right  angle  turn  there  to 
the  right  into  Savin  Hill  Avenue;  down  Savin 
Hill  Avenue,  across  Dorchester  Avenue  and  up 


230  DON 

over  the  bridge  to  Grampian  Way,  into  Gram- 
pian Way,  —  and  stopped  in  front  of  Mr. 
Skinner's  house,  zuithout  a  word  of  command  or 
touch  of  the  lines  from  the  time  he  went  out  of 
the  stable  until  he  stopped,  —  in  the  exact  place 
at  which  Master  desired  him  to  stop. 

I  beHeve  this  story  to  the  letter.  I  do  not 
understand  it;  I  cannot  explain  it.  Neither 
could  I  have  done  it.  I  might  have,  had  I 
been  going  there  every  day,  and  so  had  been 
familiar  with  the  route;  but  under  the  circum- 
stances I  could  not  possibly  have  done  it.  I 
think  the  doctor  has  a  more  hypnotic  influence 
upon  Prince  than  he  has  upon  me,  or  any  other 
horse  I  ever  knew. 


XLV 

CHARACTER  IN  HORSES 

'HE  knowledge  that  I  have  of  men, 
their  standing  and  reputation  and  the 
estimate   which    is    put    upon    them    by 


their  fellow-men,  leads  me  to   believe  that  man 


CHARACTER    IN    HORSES    231 

understands  man  far  better  than  he  understands 
the  horse.  Some  men  are  judged  entirely  from 
a  physical  or  athletic  standpoint;  others  from 
a  moral,  and  others  from  a  purely  intellectual 
standpoint.  So  far  as  I  have  ever  learned, 
man's  only  estimate  of  the  horse  is  based  upon 
his  athletic  or  physical  ability.  In  a  general 
way  men  think  one  horse  knows  more  than 
another,  but  they  apparently  do  not  admit 
that  among  horses  there  are  intellectual  giants, 
as  there  are  among  men.  I  believe,  however, 
that  there  are. 

This  leads  me  to  speak  again  of  Prince.  I 
have  told  you  how  susceptible  he  is  to  the  in- 
fluence of  the  human  mind.  I  believe  fully 
that  Prince,  while  almost  a  pigmy  physically, 
is  intellectually  a  giant  among  horses.  Of  all 
the  horses  I  have  known  (I  have  confessed 
that  I  have  known  intimately  but  few).  Prince 
is  pre-eminently,  from  a  mental  standpoint, 
superior  to  them  all.  He  is  to  a  great  degree 
intuitive. 

Prince  has  always  known,  before  any  other 
horse   in    the   stable,  —  always  before   I  did,  — 


232  DON 

what  was  going  to  happen.  When  the  man 
comes  into  the  barn  he  knows  who  is  going  to 
be  harnessed;  he  understands  at  once  from  cer- 
tain movements,  certain  mannerisms  of  the 
man  or  of  our  master,  whether  he  is  to  be  har- 
nessed or  whether  I  am,  or  Dolly  or  Bess,  or 
whoever  happens  to  be  with  us  at  the  time.  I 
think  I  have  that  faculty  to  a  greater  degree 
than  most  of  the  other  horses  which  I  have 
known;  but  Prince  seems  to  know  infinitely 
more  in   that  direction  than  I  do. 

To  illustrate:  —  Prince  always  knows  (I  do 
not  believe  he  has  ever  failed  to  know),  as  soon 
as  the  man  or  my  master  comes  into  the  barn, 
when  it  is  he  who  is  going  to  be  hitched  up. 
By  certain  motions,  stepping  round  the  stall 
and  nervous  movements  of  his  head,  he  indi- 
cates clearly  that  he  knows  he  is  to  be  har- 
nessed; and  I  have  never  known  him  to  fail. 
I  do  not  believe  Dolly  has  ever  had  any  defi- 
nite idea  whether  she  was  to  be  taken  or 
whether  I  was  or  Prince,  or  whether  the  man 
had  come  in  simply  to  attend  to  his  work  about 
the  stable. 


CHARACTER    IN    HORSES    233 

A  few  times,  when  there  has  been  some  defi- 
nite, positive  motion,  or  manner,  I  have  divined 
that  I  was  to  be  the  one  taken  out;  but  Prince 
really  (and  I  want  to  be  understood  as  speak- 
ing truthfully  in  this  matter;  I  intend  that 
whoever  reads  this  shall  believe  it)  always 
knows  when  he  is  to  be  chosen. 

Not  only  that  but  I  believe  that  he  always 
knows  when  I  am  to  be  hitched  up.  He  hates 
to  have  me  go  out.  I  think  I  should  not  be 
accused  of  being  egotistical  if  I  were  to  say 
that  Prince  dislikes  very  much  to  be  separated 
from  me,  —  no  more,  however,  than  I  do.  He 
shows  his  knowledge  by  a  motion  of  his  head, 
perhaps  you  might  call  it  a  certain  caress  that 
he  gives  me,  by  putting  his  nose  over  into  my 
stall,  when  I  am  to  be  the  one  taken  out. 

The  statement  I  am  about  to  make  now  is 
partly  from  hearsay,  and  partly  from  positive 
knowledge:  Prince  always  knows  when  I  am 
coming  back.  I  have  heard  him  call  before  I 
entered  the  driveway  and  the  man  and  my 
master  say  he  will  call  when  the  very  faintest 
sounds    of   my    footsteps    are    heard    upon    the 


234  DON 

road  a  long  distance  away,  knowing  the  dif- 
ference between  the  sounds  of  my  approach 
and  those  of  hundreds  of  other  horses  that 
pass  and  re-pass  hourly. 


XLVI 

LIFE  IN   THE  STABLE 

S  I  think  over  the  contents  of  this  book^ 
it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  not  taken 
the  reader  (and  I  hope  by  this  time 
all  of  the  readers  are  my  friends)  into  my  stable 
often  enough.  Nothing  is  so  intimately  asso- 
ciated with  every  day  of  my  life  as  is  the  stable. 
I  am  going  to  devote  a  chapter  to  the  stable, 
to  the  one  in  which  I  have  lived  and  to  the 
things   that  we  do. 

In  the  first  place  it  is  awfully  lonely  for  a 
horse  when  he  is  the  only  one  in  the  stable. 
I  have  been  alone  very  little,  but  enough  to 
know  that  it  is  lonely.  There  is  just  one  com- 
pensation: it  seems  as  if  his  family  comes 
oftener  and   stays  longer  when  he  is   alone.     I 


LIFE    IN    THE    STABLE      235 

know  that  when  I  have  happened  to  be  alone 
in  the  stable  my  master  and  mistress  and  all 
the  members  of  the  family  have  come  oftener 
to  see  me,  stayed  longer  and  talked  more  to 
me.  Of  course  if  the  stable  happens  to  be 
near  the  house  one  is  not  so  lonely,  and  es- 
pecially in  the  summer  when  the  doors  are  open 
and  he  can  hear  the  work  going  on  in  the 
kitchen,  and  occasionally  see  the  people  in  the 
house.  Under  those  circumstances  one  soon 
feels  almost  as  if  he  had  company  in  the  stable. 
Nevertheless  it  is  very  nice  to  have  someone 
of  your  own  kind  with  you. 

During  the  last  few  years  of  my  life  there 
have  always  been  three  of  us.  For  a  while  it 
was  Bess  the  filly,  and  Prince,  besides  myself. 
I  don't  know  why  my  master  so  arranged  it, 
but  I  have  always  had  the  middle  stall,  Bess 
on  my  right,  —  and  after  Bess  went  away 
Dolly  Gray,  and  Prince  always  upon  my  left. 
The  stalls  are  so  arranged  that  Prince  and  I 
are  really  closer  together.  We  can  get  our 
heads  together,  and  we  talk  and  play. 

I  soon  learned  after  Prince  came  to  take  off 


236  DON 

his  halter.  He  would  hold  up  his  head  and 
turn  it  towards  me,  so  that  I  could  get  at  his 
left  side;  I  would  with  my  teeth  unbuckle  the 
halter,  it  would  drop  off  and  he  would  be  loose. 
Then  he  would  back  out  into  the  stable,  get  a 
drink  and  nose  round.  He  never  did  anything 
bad,  but  it  always  seemed  a  good  joke  to  me. 

A  hundred  times  before  the  man  or  my  mas- 
ter discovered  that  I  did  it,  they  would  find 
Prince  loose,  and  wonder  how  he  managed  it; 
they  would  talk  about  it,  and  put  the  halter  on 
him  again,  buckling  it  up  tight,  and  in  half  an 
hour  Prince  would  be  loose  again.  I  heard 
James  and  my  master  talking  about  it  one  day 
and  Master  said  under  his  breath  (he  thought 
I  didn't  hear  him),   "I  believe  Old  Don  does  it." 

James  didn't  beheve  it:  "I  don't  see  how  Old 
Don  could  do  it;  he  could  not  reach  over 
there." 

"Well,  Prince  certainly  could  not  do  it  him- 
self; Old  Don  must  be  the  culprit.  Some  day, 
when  neither  of  the  horses  know  that  you  are 
in  the  barn,  you  watch  them  and  see  how  it  is 
done." 


LIFE    IN    THE    STABLE      237 

Perhaps  I  felt  a  little  proud  of  my  achieve- 
ment and  didn't  mind  if  I  were  discovered. 
Anyway,  one  day  when  I  knew  James  was 
watching,  I  reached  over  and  unbuckled  the 
halter  and  Prince  backed  out  of  the  stall  and 
took  a  drink.  Then  James  came  out  and 
slapped  me  good-naturedly  on  the  back  saying: 
"You  rascal!  You  are  the  fellow  that  has  been 
guilty  of  all  this  burglary."  After  that  it  be- 
came a  regular  thing;  I  had  to  unbuckle 
Prince's  halter  for  my  master  and  mistress  and 
for  people  whom  they  brought  into  the  stable; 
so  for  a  while  I  was  a  real  show  horse. 

Shortly  after,  the  stalls  were  changed,  and 
now  we  have  ropes  behind  us  instead  of  being 
tied  with  the  halter.  I  can  turn  almost  entirely 
round  in  my  stall,  but  I  cannot  unbuckle  the 
ropes  that  are  behind  us;  and  all  I  can  do  in 
the  way  of  joking  and  fun  is  to  bite  Prince  and 
see  him  kick  up.  Then  I  bite  him  in  his  neck 
and  he  throws  up  his  head  at  me  as  savagely 
as  if  he  were  about  to  kill  me. 

These  are  some  of  the  diversions  that  horses 
have;    people  call  them  horse-play;    I  don't  see 


238  DON 

that  they  are  so  much  different  from  men's 
play.  I  think  horses  are  Hke  men,  optimists 
and  pessimists.  I  think  I  am  of  an  optimistic 
temperament.  I  am  usually  happy.  I  have 
enjoyed  life.  I  rarely  ever  feel  sad  or  sober. 
I  always  have  had  enough  to  eat  and  good 
care,  and  never  was  overworked. 

I  must  say,  however,  that  I  have  slept  a 
good  many  nights  without  bedding  enough.  I 
just  wish  people  —  all  who  own  horses,  anyway 
—  could  have  a  few  nights  upon  a  hard  floor 
with  only  a  few  straws  under  them.  I  think 
then  they  would  be  more  liberal  with  their 
straw  for  horses;  so  that,  when  lying  down, 
their  legs  and  body  would  not  come  in  such 
close  contact  with  the  hard  boards. 

I  wish  the  stalls  were  not  so  narrow,  and 
that  they  were  lighter.  I  don't  see  any  reason 
why  a  horse  should  not  stand  where  he  could 
look  out-of-doors  and  see  the  sunshine.  It  might 
not  be  well  for  his  eyes  to  have  the  sun  shine 
directly  into  them,  but  he  ought  to  look  out 
more  into  the  sunshine,  as  it  is  usually  his  lot 
when  not  working  to  be  always  in  the  stable. 


THE    RESCUE  239 

XLVII 

THE   RESCUE 

'E  have  always  taken  great  a  deal  of 
interest  in  nature  as  we  have  driven 
about  the  suburbs  and  the  country; 
and  if  one  is  interested  he  sees  many  things, 
and  has  many  experiences  that  people  who  are 
not  interested  fail  to  have. 

We  had  a  curious  experience  one  day  when  we 
were  driving  down  Canterbury  Street,  —  a  beau- 
tiful little  stretch  of  road,  with  Franklin  Park, 
on  one  side  and  broad  fields  on  the  other.  It 
was  a  lovely,  sunny  day  in  June;  I  remember 
that  the  air  was  full  of  the  songs  of  birds  and 
the  park  and  the  fields  were  covered  with  beau- 
tiful flowers.  The  sheep,  with  their  young 
lambs,  were  just  over  the  wall  in  Franklin  Park. 
I  was  jogging  along,  my  master  and  mistress 
talking  about  the  birds  and  the  scenes  before 
them,  when  all  of  a  sudden  we  heard  a  peculiar 
noise.  It  didn't  sound  just  like  anything  that 
we  had  ever  heard  before.  I  remember  it  dis- 
tinctly;   it  was  not  the  call  of  a   bird;    it  was 


240  DON 

more  like  a  rustle  or  a  rattle.  It  attracted  my 
.  master's  attention  as  soon  as  it  did  mine  and 
we  stopped  opposite  the  spot  where  the  sound 
seemed  to  come  up  out  of  the  tall  grass. 

My  master  turned  me  so  that  he  could  get 
out,  and  as  he  jumped  into  the  street  I  heard 
him  say:  "Why,  that  sounds  queer,  almost 
as  I  should  think  the  rattle  of  a  rattle-snake 
would  sound.  I  never  heard  one,  but  —  I 
wonder  what  it  is!" 

This  frightened  my  mistress  and  she  begged 
of  him  not  to  investigate;  but  he  went  along, 
whip  in  hand,  parting  the  grass  with  the  stick 
of  the  whip,  peering  down  to  see  if  he  could 
discover  what  it  was.  The  noise  became  louder 
and  more  distinct,  and  then  it  did  seem  more  like 
the  cry  of  a  bird  in  distress.  At  this  moment 
we  discovered  two  parent  song-sparrows  hover- 
ing over  the  place  and  calling  in  great  distress, 
and  we  thought  it  must  be  that  one  of  their 
young  had  gotten  into  trouble  down  in  the 
grass. 

All  at  once  my  master  saw  a  little  young 
sparrow  away  down  in  the  grass  almost  out  of 


THE    RESCUE  241 

sight.  It  was  crying  piteously.  He  reached 
down  and  took  hold  of  it,  but  the  Httle  bird 
didn't  come  up,  seemed  to  be  held  down  by 
something.  Bending  nearer.  Master  discovered 
that  the  poor  little  bird  was  half  swallowed  by 
a  great  garter  snake.  I  can  see  Master  now  as 
he  drew  back  with  a  shudder  of  horror  at  the 
sight;  but,  with  the  butt  of  the  whip,  he 
brought  down  a  smart  blow  upon  the  snake's 
back  just  behind  his  head,  and  the  snake  let 
go  of  the  bird  and  slid  away  into  the  grass  and 
under  the  wall. 

My  master  took  up  the  little  quivering  crea- 
ture, bleeding  but  not  much  hurt,  and  put  him 
on  the  wall,  where  his  parents  soon  came  and 
fluttered  about  him,  spreading  their  wings  pro- 
tectingly  over  him,  talking  and  sympathizing 
with  him  in  their  pretty  bird  way. 


242  DON 


XLVIII 
THE  PARK  SYSTEM 

SHOULDN'T  feel  that  my  autobiography 
was  complete  unless  it  contained  one  chap- 
ter describing  in  a  general  way  that  which 
has  been  one  of  the  chief  joys  of  all  the  years 
that  I  have  lived  in  New  England  (which 
amounts  to  about  half  of  my  life),  and  that  is, 
the  Great  Metropolitan  Park  System,  —  so 
called   by  man. 

Beginning  early  in  the  spring  of  the  year 
that  we  lived  in  Boston,  nearly  every  fair  day 
we  took  drives  in  the  "Park  System";  so  I 
have  seen  more  of  the  parks  and  reservations 
than  I  otherwise  should  have,  more  perhaps 
than  many  horses  in  Boston  have  seen. 

We  live  right  in  the  midst  of  the  Park 
System,  almost  in  Franklin  Park,  very  near  the 
Arnold  Arboretum,  within  a  few  minutes  drive 
of  that  gem  of  all  parks,  Jamaica  Pond  Park. 
Even  I,  as  slow  as  I  am  at  the  present  time, 
can  go  to  the  Blue  Hills   Reservation  in  thirty 


THE    PARK    SYSTEM         243 

minutes.  In  fact  all  of  the  parks  that  help 
to  make  up  the  great  South  Metropolitan  Park 
System  are  within  a  few  minutes  drive  of  our 
house;  hence  I  feel  especially  well  qualified 
to  tell  about  the  Boston  parks.  I  do  not  for 
a  moment  intend  to  claim  that  I,  from  my  own 
experience,  know  all  of  the  things  which  I  am 
going  to  tell.  Some  of  them  I  have  heard  my 
master  tell;  some,  others  have  told  in  my 
presence,  but  a  great  deal  of  the  knowledge  I 
have  gained  through  my  own  personal  contact 
with  the  places  described. 

I  have  heard  it  said,  and  repeated  a  great 
many  times,  and  by  diflferent  people,  that  the 
Boston  Metropolitan  Park  System  is  one  of  the 
largest,  if  not  the  largest,  in  the  world;  and 
that  it  is  the  most  diversified,  having  hills 
(almost  mountains),  valleys,  woodlands,  rivers, 
lakes,  glens,  and  almost  every  conceivable  kind 
of  landscape. 

There  are  over  twenty-two  thousand  square 
acres  in  the  Park  System,  more  than  thirty 
square  miles,  and  hundreds  of  miles  of  fine 
roads.     There  is   that   park  of  parks,   Franklin 


244  DON 

Park,  at  my  very  door,  covering  a  territory  of 
six  hundred  and  seventy  acres.  I  never  tire 
of  its  beauty:  of  its  trees,  its  stretches  of  field- 
land,  its  beautiful  hills  and  valleys,  the  little 
lake,  the  ledges,  the  cultivated  areas,  that  lovely 
glen  where  the  tennis  players  have  their  courts, 
those  most  fascinating  of  all  Nature's  extrav- 
agances, the  balancing  rocks,  —  ten  or  a  dozen 
immense  boulders  that  seem  to  set  so  upon  one 
edge  that  a  breath  of  air  would  blow  them 
over.  There  are  the  exquisite  stone  arch 
bridges  and  a  hundred  and  one  attractive  things 
which  I  will  not  mention,  as  this  is  a  casual 
description  and  not  a  catalogue. 

I  do  not,  however,  want  to  forget  the  trees. 
Somewhere  else  in  this  book  I  have  mentioned 
the  trees  of  the  West.  I  am  not  going  to  de- 
scribe the  trees  in  Franklin  Park,  but  they  are 
a  never  failing  source  of  enjoyment  to  me. 
There  is  such  a  variety  of  kinds,  —  such  a 
multiplicity  of  forms  and  shapes:  all  the  nat- 
ural forest  trees  of  North  America,  as  well  as 
many  foreign   trees. 

I    not    only    enjoy    the    park    in    spring    and 


THE    PARK    SYSTEM         245 

summer,  but  it  gives  me  just  as  much  pleasure 
in  winter,  and  especially  do  I  glory  in  those 
great  strong,  rugged  forest  trees,  many  of  them 
bare  of  leaf.  The  park  commissioners  have 
taken  much  pains  to  provide  for  our  pleasure 
and  entertainment  in  the  winter,  in  planting 
so  many  kinds  of  berries  that,  all  through  the 
late  fall  and  winter,  some  parts  of  the  park 
are  especially  beautiful  on  account  of  these 
spots  of  color.  There  are  literally  miles  of  the 
barberry  with  its  warmth  of  color  giving  cheer 
and  glow  to  the  winter  days.  There  are  the 
bayberry  and  the  honeysuckle,  and  the  red  and 
yellow  of  the  bittersweet,  as  it  peeps  out  at 
you  from  this  bit  of  ledge,  and  that  stretch  of 
wall  and   hedge. 

Then  I  have  said  nothing  about  the  ever- 
greens, the  beautiful  old  pine  trees,  the  newer 
cultivated  pines,  the  spruce  and  the  hemlocks, 
—  and  those  four  little  hills  near  the  Valley 
Gates,  clustering  round  Schoolmaster's  Hill, 
with  what  appears  to  be  a  small  army  of  men 
on  each  hill,  one  army  watching  the  other. 
They    are    little  evergreens,   each    tree  the  size 


246  DON 

of  a  man,  occasionally  one,  a  trifle  larger,  stand- 
ing above  the  others,  like  a  commander.  How 
many  times  as  we  have  driven  down  the  road 
from  the  Refectory  toward  Valley  Gates,  have 
I  heard  my  master  say,  "Now  we  are  coming 
to  the  four  armies."  Visitors  have  said,  "What 
have  you  on  those  hills?  They  look  like  armies 
of  men."  Really  when  I  first  saw  them,  I 
thought  they  must  be  men. 

To  do  justice  to  Franklin  Park,  in  summer  or 
winter,  would  take  the  whole  scope  of  my 
book.  To  me  the  next  most  beautiful  part  of 
our  Park  System  is  what  is  known  as  Jamaica 
Pond  Park.  It  is  largely  Jamaica  Pond,  and 
around  it  are  acres  and  acres  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  attractive  park  lands,  covered 
with  if  possible  even  finer  forest  trees  than  are 
those  in   Franklin   Park. 

If  Franklin  Park  has  armies  on  its  four  little 
hills,  here  we  find  a  wonderful  navy.  On 
Jamaica  Pond  in  the  summer  there  are  nearly 
a  hundred  beautiful  white  gun-boats,  —  so  they 
look  to  the  casual  observer  at  a  distance:  and, 
as  the  squadron  forms  on  the  opposite  side  of 


THE    PARK    SYSTEM         247 

the  lake,  one  is  reminded  of  our  own  navy  and 
its  great  white  battle-ships.  Of  course  I  am 
describing  the  swans;  one  of  the  finest  col- 
lections to  be  found  anywhere  can  be  seen  on 
this    Pond. 

The  prettiest  little  piece  of  road  that  I  have 
ever  seen  is  the  Francis  Parkman  Road  in 
Jamaica  Pond  Park.  Near  one  end  of  it  is 
the  monument  and  bas-relief  of  Francis  Park- 
man,  erected  to  his  memory  upon  what  was 
said  to  be  the  spot  where  his  house  used  to 
stand.  I  heard  Master  say  one  day,  when 
he  stopped  in  front  of  the  monument  with 
a  party  of  friends,  that  it  was  erected  to 
Francis  Parkman's  memory  more  because  of 
his  great  love  of  nature  and  animals  and 
people,  and  the  prodigality  with  which  he  dis- 
pensed flowers  and  fruits  to  all  who  came 
near,  than  because  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a 
great  historian. 

Even  the  birds  remember  him.  Each  year  a 
beautiful  Wilson  thrush  comes  back  to  this 
spot;  and  almost  any  morning  you  may  hear 
him  from  the  topmost  boughs  of  the  beautiful 


248  DON 

elms  surrounding  the  monument  singing  praises 
of  the  man  who  once  lived  there  and  who  loved 
all   nature. 

Then  comes  Olmstead  Park,  the  Fenways, 
and  so  on  to  the  north  of  the  city.  I  will  say 
nothing  more  of  those  parks,  however,  but  go 
back  to  perhaps  the  most  wonderful  and  noted 
one  of  all.  While  it  does  not  belong  to  the 
Metropolitan  Park  Commission,  the  people  have 
almost  the  same  privileges  in  it  that  they  do 
in  all  of  the  other  parks.  I  refer  now  to  the 
Arnold  Arboretum,  which  belongs  to  Harvard 
University,  and  which  is  used,  as  everyone 
knows,  for  the  purpose  of  studying,  as  far  as 
possible  and  as  soon  as  possible,  every  known 
and  unknown  variety  of  plant  and  tree  and 
shrub.  I  have  heard  Master  say  that  this 
particular  part  of  our  Park  System  made  him 
think  of  our  country  as  a  whole;  because  in 
it  are  mingled  nearly  all  varieties  of  plant  life, 
trees  and  shrubs  in  the  known  world;  as  does 
our  country  include  among  its  inhabitants 
peoples  from  every  land,  every  country,  every 
clime;    and  as  there  may  be  heard  in  the  United 


THE    PARK    SYSTEM         249 

States  practically  every  tongue  that  is  spoken 
anywhere  in  the  whole  world. 

There  are,  also,  the  Charles  River  Reserva- 
tion and  the  Stony  Brook  Reservation,  the 
Great  Blue  Hills  Reservation  and  the  Neponset 
River  Reservation,  all  together  making  an  area 
almost  as  large  as  a  township,  —  most  wonder- 
ful in  their  scenic  effect,  with  scores  and  scores 
of  miles  of  beautiful  drives  that  have  given  us 
the  greatest  pleasure  in  studying  nature  in  New 
England. 

The  Blue  Hills  Reservation  alone  contains 
over  five  thousand  acres  of  land,  and  is  in 
many  ways  one  of  the  most,  if  not  the  most, 
wonderful  of  all  the  Metropolitan  Parks.  It 
is  more  like  the  great  national  reservations. 
Although  large  areas  have  not  been  penetrated 
by  roads,  yet  there  are  miles  upon  miles  of 
drives  all  through  these  regions.  The  reser- 
vation consists  of  a  series  of  hills  or  small 
mountains.  The  sides  of  many  of  them  are 
very  precipitous  and  the  surface  is  made  up 
of  crags,  canyons  and  gulches,  little  secluded 
glens,  with  many  beautiful  stretches  of  natural 


250  DON 

woodland,  brooks  and  waterfalls,  —  everything 
which  so  attracts  the  lover  of  nature. 

I  have  repeatedly  been  all  through  the  drives 
in  this  reservation,  but  of  course  I  have  never 
been  on  Big  Blue,  as  there  is  only  provision 
made  for  equestrians,  and  I  have  never  worn 
the  saddle.  I  have  been  hitched  many  times, 
however,  by  the  bridle-path  which  leads  to 
the  summit.  I  have  from  a  distance  seen  the 
observatory  on  its  summit,  and  I  have  heard 
my  master  describe  the  beauties  of  a  sunset, 
as  viewed  from  that  point.  He  says  this  would 
be  a  wonderful  world  if  everybody  had  a 
horizon  like  that  of  Big  Blue, 

Going  in  another  direction  from  Franklin 
Park  we  have  the  beautiful  Columbia  Road 
and  Strandway  Drive  to  Marine  Park.  While 
Marine  Park  is  not  so  large,  it  is  unique  in 
character  and  very  interesting;  although  I 
seldom  go  there  because  there  are  so  many 
people.  We  prefer  to  go  where  Nature  has 
been  left  to  her  more  rugged  moods. 

I  have  not  been  in  the  parks  at  the  north 
of  the  city,   but  I  have  heard   about  the  Lynn 


CHILDREN  251 

Woods  and  the  Middlesex  Fells,  and  know  that 
there  are  large  and  beautiful  parks  and  reser- 
vations. 

One  thing  I  should  like  to  say,  —  perhaps 
I  ought  not  to,  as  I  do  not  wish  to  offend  any- 
one: personally  I  care  very  little  about  auto- 
mobiles, and  am  never  frightened  by  them, 
yet  I  must  confess  they  are  a  nuisance  to  me 
as  they  must  be  to  all  horses.  To  say  it,  may 
be  selfish,  but  it  is  a  comfort  to  know,  and  I 
am  glad,  that  they  are  permitted  on  so  few  of 
the  park  roads;  so  that  we  people  can  still 
loiter  along  these  roads,  without  fear  of  moles- 
tation or  of  being  buried  in  dust  by  the 
automobile. 


XLIX 
CHILDREN 

A  GREAT  many  children  have  been  asso- 
ciated   with    my    life.     It    is    not    my 
intention    to    give    their  names.     Most 
of  them    by   this    time   are   no   longer   children 


252  DON 

but  are  grown  up  men  and  women,  and  perhaps 
have  horses  of  their  own.  How  many  hundred 
times  in  all  of  the  years  that  I  have  been  in  the 
business  upon  the  streets  have  children  stopped 
and  talked  to  me,  and  in  their  timid  childish 
way  put  out  their  tiny  hands  and  touched  me 
somewhere;  and  when  I  have  reached  my 
nose  out  to  them  so  they  could  touch  it,  I  have 
heard  their  little  frightened  screams  and  seen 
them  jump  back;  —  and  then  someone  bolder 
than  the  others  has  cautiously  come  up  and  just 
touched  the  tip  of  my  nose.  Sometimes  it 
almost  makes  me  cross  but  usually  I  have 
felt  like  laughing:  —  as  if  I,  a  great  big  horse 
weighing  eleven  hundred  pounds,  would  injure 
one  of  those  mites,  when  I  have  spent  the 
greater  portion  of  my  twenty-seven  years  trying 
to  save  their  lives  and  the  lives  of  their  parents 
and  brothers  and  sisters! 

I  have  thought  a  lot  about  children.  Most 
of  them  have  good  hearts:  I  do  not  remember 
of  a  child  that  ever  tried  to  tease  me  or  throw 
snow-balls  or  stones  at  me.  They  are  more 
apt  to  want  to  give  me  things  to  eat.     If  all  the 


CHILDREN  253 

apples  were  measured  that  children  have  given 
me,  there  would  be  bushels  and  barrels,  —  and 
the  grass!  I  have  spoken  of  grass  a  great 
many  times  in  this  story,  and  said  that  I  have 
hardly  ever  had  any  since  I  was  a  colt.  I 
meant  that  I  hadn't  been  out  and  eaten  it 
myself;  but  I  have  had  it  —  tons  I  was  going 
to  say  —  that  the  children  have  picked  for  me 
at  the  roadsides  and  held  up  to  my  mouth  while 
I  ate  it.  While  of  course  grass  so  picked  is 
not  so  sweet  and  tender  as  it  is  in  the  pastures, 
it  is  very  refreshing,  nevertheless,  to  a  tired 
horse  on  a  hot  day  to  have  some  nice,  cool, 
green    grass. 

Oh,  I  love  children,  every  one  of  them.  To 
be  sure  they  are  sometimes  an  annoyance: 
when  I  am  driving  along  the  street,  they  dodge 
in  front  of  me,  and  my  heart  has  almost  stopped 
beating  many  times  for  fear  I  should  step  on 
them.  Some  people  think  a  horse  would  just 
as  soon  step  on  a  child  as  not.  I  have  been 
fortunate:  I  have  never  stepped  on  a  child. 
I  believe  if  I  had  I  never  should  have  gotten 
over  it. 


254  DON 

I  once  knew  a  horse  that  accidentally  stepped 
on  a  little  child's  head  and  so  injured  the  poor 
little  girl  that,  although  she  was  taken  to  the 
hospital  and  everything  done  that  it  was  pos- 
sible to  do,  her  little  life  could  not  be  saved. 
I  hope  that  poor  horse  never  fully  realized  what 
he  did.  The  little  child  was  a  patient  of  ours, 
and  my  master  was  called  immediately  to  see 
her.  I  know  how  badly  he  felt  and  all  of  the 
family  and  all  of  the  friends,  and  how  much 
everyone  suffered.  It  always  seemed  to  me 
that  someone  ought  to  have  given  at  least  one 
thought  to  the  poor  horse  who  unintentionally 
and  unwittingly  put  his  great  heavy  foot  upon 
the  delicate  little  girl's  head. 

I  never  saw  the  horse.  I  simply  have  heard 
my  master  tell  how  it  happened;  and  although 
he  was  so  sorry  for  the  people  who  lost  the  baby 
girl  and  for  the  loss  of  the  dear  little  thing,  he 
always  felt  that  the  poor  horse  must  have 
suffered  a  great  deal  in  his  horse  way  as  well 
as  all  others  connected  with  the  very  sad 
affair. 

I  didn't  intend   to   tell  this  story;    but  chil- 


CHILDREN  '255 

dren  have  been  so  much  on  my  mind.  You 
hardly  are  aware  until  you  stop  to  think  of  it, 
that  a  horse,  when  he  is  out  of  the  barn  upon 
the  road,  is  rarely  for  a  single  moment  out  of 
sight  of  children;  and  really  my  heart  has  been 
in  my  mouth  so  many  times  from  the  close 
calls  we  have  had,  that  I  could  not  resist  tell- 
ing this  sad  little  story,  and  saying  how  very, 
very  thankful  I  am  that  I  have  never  personally 
had  any  such  experience. 

I  have  heard  people  call  horses  fools  because 
they  have  done  something  which,  from  the 
man's  standpoint,  they  ought  not  to  have  done 
—  like  running  into  another  team  or  running 
over  persons  in  the  road,  and  similar  accidents; 
but  those  very  people  are  the  ones  who  almost 
blind  a  horse  with  the  horrible  blinkers,  and  who 
hold  the  head  so  high  that  the  poor  horse  can 
see  only  straight  ahead,  and  at  that  almost 
straight  up  in  the  air.  They  are  usually  the 
ones  who  want  and  train  a  horse  to  have  abso- 
lutely no  mind  or  will  of  his  own,  but  to  do  like 
a  m.achine  only  the  will  of  the  driver;  and  then 
they    drive    the    horse    directly    upon    someone 


256  DON 

and,  because  they  failed  to  see  that  person  or 
team,  they  blame  the  horse  and  scold  and 
whip    him. 

The  way  to  train  and  break  a  horse  is  to 
develop  and  make  use  of  his  splendid  intelli- 
gence as  well  as  his  wonderful  physical  power 
and  ability.  These,  coupled  with  a  confidence 
in  the  driver  and  a  driver  worthy  of  that  con- 
fidence, —  one  who  loves  and  understands  his 
horse,  —  give  to  man  one  of  his  greatest  helps 
in  business  and  pleasure,  and  a  companion  of 
no  mean  order;  and  make  a  comfortable,  useful 
member  of  the  society  of  the  higher  order  of 
animals. 

L 

"DA'   FOOT 

VERY  amusing  little  incident  happened 
in  our  daily  rounds  a  year  or  two  ago. 
It  was,  I  remember,  a  very  cold  day 
in  December  and  we  had  been  out  all  the  morn- 
ing. My  master  had  in  the  carriage  that  day 
one  of  his  patients,  a  lady  who  was  ill  with  some 


"DA'    FOOM"  257 

affection  that  required  her  to  be  constantly, 
or  at  least  a«  much  as  possible,  in  the  open  air. 
We  have  often  taken  such  patients  with  us, 
and  I  always  enjoy  this  part  of  the  work  be- 
cause, when  my  master  has  someone  with  him 
he  talks  more  and  I  learn  a  lot  of  things  that 
otherwise  I  should  never  know. 

This  morning  about  eleven  o'clock  we  had 
to  make  a  call  way  over  on  Centre  Street  where 
we  had  been  going  two  or  three  times  a  day 
for  two  weeks.  I  have  heard  my  master  say 
that  he  had  a  very  sick  baby  girl  in  there;  and 
I  know  she  must  have  been  very  sick,  as  my 
master  always  seemed  anxious  and  much  wor- 
ried when  he  came  out  after  making  usually  a 
long  visit.  On  the  morning  in  question  it 
seemed  as  if  he  w^ere  in  the  house  even  longer 
than  usual.  Perhaps  he  wasn't;  it  seemed 
long  to  me  because  it  was  so  very  cold,  although 
I  was  carefully  protected  with  two  heavy 
blankets  and  the  patient  in  the  carriage  was 
wrapped  in  fur  robes. 

I  felt  sure  the  little  patient  was  better  when 
my   master   did    come   out,    because   he   looked 


258  DON 

and  acted  very  much  pleased.  As  he  took  off 
my  blankets  he  patted  me  and  said:  "It's  too 
bad,  Old  Don,  to  make  you  stand  so  long  in  the 
cold;  but  don't  you  mind!  my  little  girl  is 
better  and  it  took  me  some  time  to  do  all  the 
things  that  I  had  to  do." 

Now  comes  the  funny  part  of  my  story,  and 
I  am  going  to  give  it  in  my  master's  own  lan- 
guage as  he  told  it  to  the  patient  while  we  were 
driving  home:  — 

"My  patient  in  that  house  is  a  little  child 
only  eighteen  months  old.  She  has  been  very, 
very  ill  with  pneumonia  and  complications.  I 
have  been  exceedingly  anxious  about  her.  It 
seemed  to  me  for  three  or  four  days  that  she 
could  not  possibly  recover,  and  she  is  such  a 
bright,  sunny-haired,  dear  little  baby,  —  I 
thought  I  couldn't  let  her  go!  I  have  spent 
hours  there  in  the  last  two  weeks,  watching  the 
case  and  studying  the  symptoms,  hoping  each 
day  to  see  some  sign  of  improvement. 

"This  morning  when  I  got  into  the  house 
the  mother  seemed  very  bright  and  cheerful. 
As  soon  as  I  opened  the  door  she  said:    *I  be- 


"DA'    FOO'!"  259 

lieve  Helen  Is  better.  She  slept  well  last  night; 
she  seemed  better  when  she  awoke.  She  has 
taken  her  nourishment  and  has  just  now 
dropped  asleep.' 

*'I  talked  with  her  a  few  minutes  and  then 
tiptoed  into  the  room  and  bent  over  the  crib. 
I  evidently  disturbed  her,  for  she  moved  and 
opened  her  eyes.  She  looked  very  sweet,  but 
there  was  a  mature  expression  in  her  baby  face 
due  to  the  suffering  she  had  endured. 

"In  my  pleasantest,  blandest  voice  I  said: 
*How  is  my  little  Helen  this  morning?'  She 
gave  me  one  look  of  unutterable  disgust,  as  if 
that  were  the  most  idiotic  question  any  sensible 
man  could  ask,  then  closing  her  eyes  she  turned 
away  her  head  and  said  explosively:  'Da'  foo'!' 

"I  have  been  squelched  by  my  patients  a 
great  many  times,  but  I  never  had  anything 
said  to  me  so  entirely  apropos  as  Baby  Helen's 
'Da' foo'!' 

"I  ought  to  explain  where  Helen  got  such 
words.  She  has  a  brother  five  years  old,  who 
has  just  begun  to  play  out  with  the  boys,  and 
he  has  been  bringing  in  to  his  little  sister  some 


26o  DON 

choice  expressions.     I  suppose  this  is  the  latest, 
and  she  served  it  on  me." 

As  we  drove  on,  the  Httle  episode  seemed  to 
furnish  a  lot  of  amusement  to  the  patient  and 
to  my  master;  and  I  have  heard  him  refer  to 
it  many  times  since  as  one  of  the  bright  spots 
—  cases  he  called  them  —  in  his  naturally  more 
or  less  humdrum  life. 


LI 
TEDDY 

GUESS  Teddy  is  a  common  name:  I  hear 
people  tell  about  "Teddy  bears,"  and  I 
have  known  children  by  the  name  of 
Teddy;  —  I  think  it  is  a  common  name,  but 
there  is  only  one  Teddy  to  me,  and  that  is  the 
dearest,  most  lovable,  affectionate  little  black 
dog,  with  long  shaggy  ears  and  long  shaggy 
hair,  and  the  least  little  stub  of  a  tail.  Such  a 
tail!  it  really  makes  a  horse  laugh  to  see  Teddy, 
when  he  is  pleased,  try  to  wag  that  little  piece 
of  a  tail. 


TEDDY  261 

I  only  see  Teddy  once  in  a  while.  I  wish  I 
could  see  hirn  often;  I  wish  he  lived  with  us 
in  the  barn:  he  would  be  such  company.  Of 
course  Teddy  has  never  taken  Gyp's  or  Bess's 
place  in  my  life,  because  he  is  too  small  and  too 
fat  and  rolypoly  to  run  and  play  with  me;  but 
he  is  so  lovable. 

He  doesn't  live  with  us;  he  has  never  be- 
longed to  us;  but  he  has  always  for  eight  years 
lived  near  us,  so  that  every  day  or  every  week 
I  have  seen  him  just  for  a  Httle  time.  You  see 
he  is  in  a  way  related  to  us,  because  he  belongs 
to  Prince's  master;  but  Prince  always  stays 
here  and  Teddy  stays  at  home  with  his  master. 

Did  I  ever  tell  you  that  Prince  does  not 
really  belong  to  us.''  He  has  lived  with  us 
ever  since  the  second  year  that  we  came  to 
Boston  and  my  master  uses  him  a  good  deal 
of  the  time,  —  always  in  the  winter;  but  in 
the  summer  when  it  is  pleasant  Prince's  own 
people  (neighbors  of  ours)  drive  him  somewhat. 
In  that  way  he  goes  to  Teddy's  house  oftener 
than  any  of  the  rest  of  us  do,  and  Teddy  is 
more  associated  with    Prince   than  with  me  or 


262  DON 

with  Bess  or  Dolly.  I  hardly  ever  think  of 
Prince  as  not  belonging  to  us;  because  he  has 
been  more  constantly  with  me,  and  for  a  longer 
time  than  any  mate  I  ever  had.  I  don't  know 
what  I  should  do  if  Prince  ever  went  away.  I 
heard  Master  say,  and  I  have  heard  Prince's 
master  say,  that  they  would  "never  separate 
Don  and  Prince."     I  hope  they  won't. 

I  was  telling  you  about  Teddy.  One  summer 
he  came  to  stay  with  us  while  his  master  and 
all  the  family  were  away  in  the  mountains. 
All  of  us  horses  got  to  love  that  dog  almost  more 
than  we  loved  each  other.  This  was  before 
Dolly  came;  then  we  had  Bess,  the  mare  that 
fell  through  the  floor. 

Although  Teddy  was  in  the  house  most  of 
the  time  with  our  mistress,  he  came  to  the  barn 
many  times  every  day.  I  can  remember  his 
standing  behind  Prince  and  barking,  and  mak- 
ing a  tremendous  noise  for  such  a  little  fellow. 
I  thought  he  wanted  us  to  go  out.  He  liked  to 
go  out  with  any  of  the  horses,  particularly  with 
Prince;  but  he  had  to  ride.  He  would  think 
he  was  going  to  run,  and  would   make  a  great 


TEDDY  263 

lot  of  pretense,  but  by  the  time  he  had  run  a 
block  he  would  be  glad  to  get  into  the  buggy. 

Teddy  never  seemed  homesick  here;  but,  after 
he  had  been  with  us  about  a  month,  he  became 
ill.  We  all  noticed  that  he  didn't  seem  natural, 
and  our  mistress  spoke  of  it  (Master  was  away 
at  the  time  on  his  vacation).  She  tried  to  doc- 
tor Teddy,  —  petted  and  fed  him  very  care- 
fully, and  gave  him  some  medicine.  Still  he 
grew  worse,  and  as  he  became  sicker  he  didn't 
come  to  the  barn;  he  wandered  away  and  lay 
down  under  the  shrubs.  So  many  times  Mis- 
tress lost  him,  and  I  would  see  her  out  in  the 
grounds  hunting  for  him. 

One  day  she  lost  him  entirely;  Teddy  could 
not  be  found  anywhere.  Mistress  telephoned 
all  over  the  neighborhood,  had  half  a  dozen 
boys  out  looking  for  him,  and  she  took  Prince 
and  drove  all  about  trying  to  find  poor  little 
sick  Teddy;  but  she  could  not  find  him  and  we 
all  felt  badly  to  think  he  was  lost.  After  he 
had  been  gone  for  about  a  day,  some  neighbor 
away  off  on  another  street  telephoned  that  they 
had    found    him.     She   said    he   was   nearly   ex- 


264  DON 

hausted  and  was  lying  down  out  of  sight  under 
a  shrub. 

I  tell  you  Mistress  had  me  hitched  up  in  a 
hurry  and  we  went  over  there  at  my  quickest 
pace.  We  found  poor  little  Teddy  too  sick  to 
rise.  Mistress  had  the  man  lift  him  carefully 
into  the  buggy;  we  drove  home  and  she  took 
him  into  the  house.  Although  our  master  was 
in  anot:her  state,  a  hundred  miles  away,  she 
telephoned  him  to  ask  what  she  should  do  for 
the  little  sick  dog.  He  telephoned  back  in- 
structions and  medicines  to  give,  and  told  her 
to  keep  close  watch  of  Teddy;  because  animals 
are  not  like  m.en  when  they  are  sick  and  suffer- 
ing: rather  than  make  any  trouble  they  prefer 
to  get  off  alone  and  out  of  sight;  and  he  said 
if  we  didn't  watch  Teddy  closely  he  might 
again  crawl  away. 

The  care,  the  food  and  the  medicine  seemed 
to  help  him  and  in  a  day  or  two  he  was  a  good 
deal  better.  In  less  than  a  week  he  was  out, 
apparently  brighter  and  happier  than  ever. 

I  don't  see  why  it  is  that  something  bad  al- 
ways happened  to  our  dogs;    but  Teddy  is  still 


THANKSGIVING  265 

with   us,   seemingly   as   young   and   happy,   and 
jolly  and  lovable  as  ever. 


A^ 


LII 
THANKSGIVING 

S  I  draw  near  the  close  of  this  book,  I 
am  tempted  to  tell  something  which 
happened  very  recently.  The  only  rea- 
son I  have  hesitated  to  tell  it  is  that  it  might 
reflect  somewhat  upon  my  master;  and  I  don't 
wish  to  cast  any  reflection  upon  him,  because 
he  has  always  intended  to  be  very  kind  to  me 
and  give  me  the  best  of  everything,  and  has 
always  done  so  when  it  has  been  within  his 
power  or  knowledge. 

I  might  say  here  that  I  think  my  master, 
and  probably  other  owners  of  horses,  have  often 
trusted  too  much  to  the  judgment,  the  intelli- 
gence, and  honesty  of  the  man  in  the  stable. 
We  have  as  a  rule  been  fortunate;  we  have  had 
good  men  and  I  have  usually  received  good 
care;   this    occurrence    does    not    have    so    much 


266  DON 

to  do  with  my  food  as  with  what  we  might  call 
the  sentimental  side  of  my  life. 

Only  a  little  while  ago  we  had  a  man  for  a 
short  time,  a  very  good  man:  knew  a  lot  about 
horses,  fed  us  well,  took  good  care  of  us,  but 
he  didn't  understand  our  natures.  He  didn't 
like  the  way  we  stood  in  the  barn.  He  wanted 
me  to  stand  in  Prince's  place;  he  wanted  Prince 
to  stand  in  Dolly's  place;  he  wanted  Dolly  to 
stand  in  my  place,  and  so  we  were  put  in  those 
positions. 

Well  now,  I  believe  but  few  people  can  under- 
stand just  what  that  means.  We  had  stood  in 
the  other  places  for  years.  Prince  was  where 
I  could  reach  over  and  nip  his  neck  whenever 
I  wanted  to,  and  could  pull  off  his  blanket. 
Prince  could  reach  over  and  nip  my  ear;  and 
we  spent  hours  every  day  playing  together  in 
that  way.  Perhaps  you  think  a  horse  twenty- 
seven  years  of  age  is  too  old  to  play,  —  not  if 
he  is  a  sound,  healthy  horse!  Horses  are  like 
men:  if  normal  they  are  never  too  old  to  play. 
What  would  we  do  to  pass  the  time  away.^ 

In  the  new  positions,  Prince  was  entirely  re- 


DON 

A  Photograph  at  Twenty-five 


THANKSGIVING  267 

moved  from  me;  I  could  not  touch  him.  Nei- 
ther could  I  reach  Dolly,  because  my  position 
was  changed  so- 1  could  not  reach  over  the  stall. 
I  was  chugged  up  in  a  corner  in  a  stall  much 
too  small  for  me,  a  stall  that  my  master  had  in- 
tended for  Prince.  We  stood  that  way  for  a 
week.  I  could  not  eat;  I  could  not  sleep;  I 
didn't  rest.  My  master  came  out  after  we  had 
been  standing  in  this  position  for  a  while  and 
exclaimed,  "Why,  Joseph,  what  have  you  got 
the  horses  in  those  positions  for?" 

"It  is  the  way  I  found  them,  sir." 

"You  found  them  that  way?" 

"Yes,  sir;  that  is  just  as  they  were  when  I 
came  here." 

You  see  that  Karl  was  here  only  a  month, 
stopping  a  while  between  men,  and  at  the  end 
of  his  stay  he  changed  us.  A  day  or  two  after- 
wards he  was  gone,  and  when  Joseph  came  he 
supposed  that  we  were  in  our  usual  places. 
My  master  talked  to  Joseph  about  it  and  said, 
"We  will  change  them  back  as  they  were  be- 
fore." At  that  moment  the  bell  rang  and  my 
master  went  into  the  house.     It  was  at  a  time 


268  DON 

when  he  was  very  busy  and  another  week  had 
passed  before  it  came  to  his  mind  again.  Then 
Mistress  called  his  attention  to  it.  I  heard 
her  say  as  she  came  into  the  barn: 

"Old  Don  doesn't  seem  well.  He  is  too 
quiet.  What  have  you  got  him  in  Prince's 
stall  for?  I  don't  believe  he  is  comfortable 
there.     He  acts  awfully  sober." 

Master  came  in  and  patted  me.  "Why, 
Don,"  he  said,  "don't  you  like  your  stall.''  I 
don't  blame  you.  It's  too  small;  you  have  no 
business  here.  I  will  change  you  back  myself"; 
—  and  as  he  came  up  to  my  feed-box,  he  ex- 
claimed: "Poor  old  fellow!  You  haven't  eaten 
your  supper;  you  haven't  eaten  your  oats  or 
your  hay.     How  thin  you  are!" 

Both  my  master  and  mistress  were  very 
much  distressed  when  they  understood  how  I 
had  suffered  in  the  three  or  four  weeks  that  I 
had  stood  that  way.  It  was  an  evening  when 
Joseph  was  away  and  my  master  immediately 
changed  us  all  around:  gave  me  my  own  stall, 
put  Prince  back  where  I  could  see  and  reach 
him.      Mistress  went  down  cellar  and   brought 


THE    LAST    WORD  269 

me  a  whole  pail  of  apples,  and  Prince  had 
apples  and  Dolly  had  an  extra  quart  of  oats. 
This  was  on  Thanksgiving  Day  and  I  tell  you 
it  was  the  most  blessed  Thanksgiving  Day  that 
I  ever  passed.  I  really  believe  that  in  another 
month  I  should  have  been  dead. 

When  they  put  me  back  into  my  own  stall, 
I  dipped  into  the  pail  of  apples  and  they  did 
taste  good.  I  stopped  long  enough  to  reach 
over  and  bite  Prince  on  the  neck  and  his  little 
limber  heels  flew  clear  to  the  ceiling.  It 
seemed  as  if  we  were  living  again. 

And  then  people  think  that  horses  have  no 
feelings,  no  sentiment! 


LIII 

THE  LAST  WORD 


""^HE  chapter  on  Thanksgiving  brings  me 
to  the  end  of  my  book,  and  I  am  rather 
sorry;  for  I  assure  you  the  year  that 
I  have  spent  in  writing  it  has  been  one  of  the 
happiest  years  of  my  life.     I  have  lived  over  all 


270  DON 

of  the  pleasantest  scenes  and  episodes  of  my 
life;  and,  as  I  stand  here  in  my  stall,  day  after 
day,  doing  what  I  know,  as  well  as  anyone,  is 
no  real  work,  since  whatever  I  do  is  for  my  own 
good,  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  perhaps-  I  am 
getting  near  the  end  of  my  life  as  well  as  the 
end  of  my  book.  Well,  that  is  as  it  should  be: 
an  autobiography  is  the  history  of  the  life  of  a 
person  or  individual,  written  by  himself;  and, 
if  I  have  written  an  autobiography,  why  isn't 
my  life  naturally  pretty  nearly  lived?  I  know 
my  master  feels  that  way.  Although  he  doesn't 
believe  in  anybody's  growing  old  (I  have  told 
you  his  opinion  of  age  and  of  sickness,  and 
that  as  long  as  anyone  is  living  he  may  be 
useful),  yet,  in  spite  of  his  theory,  I  believe,  I 
know  that  I  am  growing  old,  that  I  am  old 
for  a  horse;  and  my  master  knows  it,  for  I 
have  heard  him  many  times  talking  about  it 
to  my  mistress  or  to  the  man  or  to  friends  who 
were  visiting  him.  I  have  heard  him  make 
plans  about  what  he  would  do  with  Old  Don 
if  he  became  sick  and  suffered,  and  it  would 
seem  as  if  he  were  not  going  to  get  well,  —  how 


THE    LASTWORD  271 

he  would  himself  give  Old  Don  chloroform,  so 
that  he  need  not  suffer  longer  or  reahze  when 
the  end  came. 

Sometimes  it  has  made  me  sad,  and  again  I 
have  really  laughed  to  think  my  master  should 
imagine  that  he  could  give  me,  Old  Don,  chloro- 
form. Why!  he  could  no  more  chloroform  me 
than  he  could  chloroform  his  brother.  Always, 
after  talking  in  that  way,  he  is  especially  kind 
to  me:  visits  me  oftener,  pats  me  more  and 
does  little  things  for  my  comfort.  Oh,  I  am 
not  afraid  that  my  master  will  chloroform  me. 
I  don't  think  much  about  it.  It  doesn't  trouble 
me;  and  yet  I  sometimes  wonder  what  Prince 
would  do  if  I  were  not  here,  —  and  then,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  it  is  harder  for  me  to  realize 
what  I  should  do  if  Prince  were  not  here.  It 
doesn't  seem  to  me  that  I  could  stand  it  to 
have  him  taken  away  from  me. 

Last  fall  Prince's  master  thought  that  Prince 
was  too  old  to  work,  and  that  perhaps  he  ought 
to  be  put  in  a  home  for  old  horses;  and  I 
think  he  did  really  for  a  while  seriously  consider 
sending  Prince  to  Red  Acre.      My  master  and 


272  DON 

mistress  went  out  there  one  day  to  see  what 
sort  of  a  place  it  was  and  if  it  were  really  a 
good  home  for  sick,  lame  and  old  horses.  Pos- 
sibly they  had  in  mind  that  it  might  be  a 
good  place  for  Old  Don.  I  rather  think,  how- 
ever, it  was  on  account  of  their  interest  in  old 
horses  in  general,  and  because  they  wished  to 
see  Red  Acre  for  themselves. 

I  heard  Master  telling  the  man  when  he 
came  back,  that  it  was  a  beautiful  farm  out  in 
Stow,  Massachusetts,  about  twenty  miles  from 
Boston.  A  lady  by  the  name  of  Miss  Bird, 
had  given  the  farm,  which  was  her  old  home- 
stead, and  was  devoting  her  own  life,  to  the 
enterprise.  Beautiful  stables  had  been  built 
and  it  was  a  real  home  for  aged,  infirm  and 
sick  horses.  At  that  time  thirty  horses  were 
there,  of  all  ages  and  conditions  of  life;  and 
they  were  well  fed  and  well  cared  for,  and 
seemed  contented  and  happy.  My  master  was 
very  enthusiastic  over  it;  and  I  believe  that 
before  the  Thanksgiving  episode  he  had  quite 
an  idea  that  possibly  it  would  be  a  good  place 
for  Prince  to  go  to,  and  that  eventually  I  might 


THE    LAST    WORD  273 

go  there  myself;  but  that  Thanksgiving  experi- 
ence was  an  eye-opener.  Master  has  always  felt 
that  he  knew  a  lot  about  horses,  about  their 
sentiments  and  their  emotional  natures,  but  I 
am  of  the  opinion  that  that  experience  awoke 
in  him  a  new  sense  of  the  depths  of  feeling 
in  horses  and  I  am  sure  now  he  would  never 
willingly  separate  Prince  and  me.  I  am  also 
sure  that  Prince's  master  would  never  willingly 
separate  us.  That  possibility  is  the  only  thing 
that  worries  me. 

I  know  that  my  master  would  never  let  me 
go  away  from  home.  It  is  not  egotism  for  me 
to  say  that  I  could  get  along  without  my  mas- 
ter just  as  well  as  he  could  without  me,  although 
I  am  not  working;  and  it  is  a  pretty  comfort- 
able feeling,  after  your  work  is  really  done, 
to  know  that  you  have  earned  a  place  not  only 
in  the  stable  but  in  the  hearts  and  affections  of 
your  people,  and  that  they  do  not  begrudge 
you  the  handful  of  oats  or  the  wisps  of  hay 
that  you  eat;  that  there  is  more  danger  of 
being  overfed,  overpetted  and  overblanketed. 
Life   looks    pretty   rosy   to    me.     I    really   never 


274  DON 

have  a  want:  I  am  never  hungry,  never  cold, 
I  was  almost  going  to  say  never  lonesome, 
never  tired. 

I  don't  believe  I  would  swap  places  with  one 
of  Rockefeller's  horses. 


